A/N: Shoutouts to my faithful reviewers and fellow authors who have so kindly taken me under their wings: fieryprophet and xenascully. I can only hope to achieve your levels of awesomeness. And a special thanks to SnoopMaryMar, who has (albeit by default), trusted my grammar and spelling enough to make me her back-up beta ;) And a special thanks to secretspark89, your reviews are always too generous! You guys rock and keep me going!
"Ziva!" Tony bolted upright in bed, searching frantically for his lifeline. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he tried to make sense of his surroundings, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder and a throbbing ache in his side from the sudden movement.
"She was sleeping, Tony, and so were you. I moved the computer over to the table." He instantly recognized the voice as belonging to one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, his boss and mentor. As consciousness slowly took over his groggy mind, he quickly remembered the events of the past few days. She was alive, she was safe. He was in the hospital. And Gibbs…
"I'm gonna be sick," he moaned and lurched to the side of the bed.
Gibbs jumped quickly into action, retrieving the kidney dish in the top drawer of the bedside stand and putting it under Tony's chin in time for him to grasp onto it and throw up the meager contents of his stomach.
"Should I call in the nurse?" Gibbs gently asked.
"No, I'm ok. But, I need the computer. I can't turn it off while she's sleeping." Tony took the towel Gibbs proffered and wiped his mouth, placing the dish on the stand and reaching for the laptop.
"You stalking her, or something?" Gibbs smirked.
"I promised her I'd watch over her," Tony lamely responded.
Gibbs knew he was holding back, but didn't push the issue. Tony opened the laptop, and seeing Ziva still sleeping, left it open on the table and laid back down on his own pillows, sighing and rubbing his hand over his weary face. Gibbs went back to the chair on the opposite side of Tony's bed and sat down, almost magically retrieving a coffee cup from underneath and taking a long swig.
"I've heard that patients coming out of anesthesia and being on painkillers like morphine can make for some pretty vivid dreams. That happening to you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs quietly prodded, raising his eyebrows in his senior agent's direction.
Tony chuckled, a truly demented sound emanating from deep in his throat. "If that's true, then I've had a morphine addiction since the second you told me she died on the Damocles."
Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Well, I wasn't expecting that," he thought. "I thought Ziver was the only one having nightmares?" It was spoken as a statement, more than a question.
"Yeah, well, I'm just a better actor than she is, I guess," Tony replied dryly.
"You wanna tell me why you're still acting?"
"You wanna tell me why you were kissing my fiancée?" Tony suddenly sat up in bed, a stone-cold look in his eyes.
"You're not acting now." Gibbs sat back in his chair, nearly afraid of the murderous glare coming from his Senior Agent. Nearly. He realized that Tony must've been given another round of pain meds after his first PT session, and was speaking in a harsh, uncensored manner because of it.
"No, I'm not, Gibbs. I am dead serious."
Gibbs sighed and ran his hand over his haggard face and took a long sip of his coffee. "I think maybe you should ask her, DiNozzo."
"Oh, I did. She wouldn't give me any details; just told me that what I saw wasn't what I thought. Except, the thing is, I'm a pretty decent investigator. I trust my eyes a lot more than my heart." Tony's glare never wavered, though his voice was eerily calm.
"And what does your heart have to say about it, then?" Gibbs whispered.
"I'd like to believe that you wouldn't do that to me, Boss. But, I don't know. I really don't. First you egg me on with Rivkin. Tell me to 'keep on it.' Then, you throw me under the bus when it comes time to face the music. You abandon Ziva in Israel, essentially signing her death warrant. And when by, miracle of miracles, we find her alive in that hole in the desert, you tell me to give it time. It's like you've always known how much I love her, thanks to that fascinating gut of yours. You help me get the mission to Somalia over on Vance. You got why Rivkin bothered me, even if you didn't admit it, and knew why I was the best guy for the job with him. But, your stupid-ass rules have kept us apart for years. And my gut tells me there's more to it than that. I don't know what to think. So, why don't you tell me what you were thinking." Tony was snarling by the time he uttered his last words, albeit rambling rather inconsistently.
Gibbs knew he was going to have this out with DiNozzo eventually; he just didn't expect it to be anytime soon. Maybe that was wishful thinking. He certainly didn't want to do it while Tony was in a hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound and with a drug-induced cloud fogging his brain. And the impending arrival of a little David-DiNozzo certainly wasn't the most ideal of situations. But, maybe he finally needed to hear it before things really got out of hand.
"I knew you could fight your own way with Eli. I never had any doubt in you, that was all Vance. I had your six behind closed doors. And Ziva abandoned herself in Israel, the minute she asked me to choose between the two of you."
Tony blanched and his eyes began frantically searching the air in front of him, trying to make sense of Gibbs' words. "What?" He finally managed to choke out.
"That's right. It wasn't me. It was her. She couldn't work with you, anymore. Wanted you transferred to another team as a condition of her return. The whole thing smelled fishy to me, but I wasn't willing to take that chance." Gibbs carefully studied Tony's reaction, wondering where this discussion was going to lead.
Tony's visage of confusion mixed with horror quickly changed to one of determination. "That doesn't matter. Eli must have forced her hand; I'd think you would be smart enough to figure that out. And if it came between me and her, I'd leave the team in a heartbeat. Especially if it meant keeping her safe," he finally replied through gritted teeth.
"What are you doing, DiNozzo? You don't even love her. Not really. You can't keep overcompensating with Ziva because of Kate. It's over, finished. You weren't at fault when Kate died, and you can't keep punishing yourself for Ziva's bad decisions." The harsh words Gibbs spoke contrasted with the look of sadness and concern for the man who had grown to be like a son to him.
Tony's eyes narrowed and he took a deep shaking breath. "What did you just say to me?"
Gibbs never flinched. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but Tony needed to finally hear it.
"You. Don't. Love. Her." He kept his voice calm and steady, hoping it would sink through the younger man's often thick skull. He was truly worried about the path his agents were taking, and now, a baby would only complicate matters. He didn't doubt DiNozzo's love for his offspring, but staying in a marriage just for a child was no way to live, for anyone. He only hoped that he could make Tony see the error of his ways, before it was too late. Hell, it had only recently dawned on him what was really going on, here. And the idea that it took his Senior Agent taking a bullet to make him realize it was terrifying. There was always something in Tony's behavior towards Ziva that he could never quite put his finger on, and even he had been fooled into believing it was love. But, the course of events over the last few days made him rethink that idea. And as much as it shocked him to realize that Tony was using Ziva as a way to make amends for Kate, it was equally shocking that Ziva was using DiNozzo as some kind of shield from the real world that she could no longer handle. He loved them both like his own children, and he just couldn't let them keep doing this to each other. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't right. They were both losing their grips on reality, and someone had to pull them back. Gibbs was startled from his own thoughts by a whispering that he nearly didn't hear.
"Get. Out." The look on Tony's face was unmistakably violent, though his voice never betrayed his thoughts.
Gibbs knew when not to argue. He understood that the man would need time to think about what he'd said, and he respected it. He could only hope that Tony would, honestly, think about it. To make his point, he turned in the doorway and spoke gently to DiNozzo.
"Think about it, Tony. You'll see that I'm right." Then, he turned and walked away.
Tony slammed his head down into his pillow, jaw clenching involuntarily, trying to blink the murderous thoughts from his mind. He was interrupted by someone quickly poking their head in the door. He practically snarled when he saw Gibbs' silver head staring back at him.
"Oh, and DiNozzo? I told you to stay on top of Rivkin, not get the shit beat out of yourself until you had no choice but to shoot him." With that, Gibbs was gone.
Tony drew a deep breath and held it until he felt dizzy. He let it out in an audible gush, and closed his eyes. He opened them quickly, remembering the present and checked the computer monitor. Ziva was still asleep, snoring softly on her side, facing away from the computer. Tony studied her sleeping form and let his mind wander. He loved the way she snored, even though he'd never admit it to her. It was a constant, even if only subliminal, reminder of her presence at night. Her dark curly hair was splayed all over her pillow. She'd been experimenting with different styles, lately, but he still preferred it in its natural, wildly curly, state. Her curvy form moved rhythmically in time with her steady breathing, and he appreciated it. He missed the healthier version of her body, before Somalia. He was still going to have to think of ways to entice her appetite, at least until she began eating normally again for herself. She stirred on their bed, and he recognized the signs of her dreaming. This one didn't seem too bad, and he thought he might not have to intervene. There wasn't much he could do except call to her, anyway. How lame. His gig as lover and father was seriously being dampened by all this hospital business. He wondered if he'd really have to stay the entire week, even if he amped up his efforts in physical therapy. He glanced at the clock on the wall, barely able to make it out in the darkness of the room. 2100. He yawned, then checked again on Ziva. He hoped she'd make it through the night; the woman never let herself rest enough. How could it not be love? How could Gibbs even think that? Even during the anguish of Kate's death, he'd felt an immediate spark between himself and Ziva. Now Jeanne. That was something that was not love. He cared about her, yes. He'd be lying if he said he didn't, but that wasn't real. He'd been lying to himself, not only her. It had just felt so good to have someone to come home to. It would have been nice if he could've shared the details of his actual life with her. Like, the night that he went to her after Paula's death. He should've been able to simply tell her what had happened, and let her comfort him. Instead, he professed his love for her, knowing it was what she wanted to hear, and with the fear of the ever-ticking clock of life being shoved into his face. He'd been out of his mind with grief, anger, fear…it had clouded his judgment. Was that all this was with Ziva? Clouded judgment? It couldn't be, could it? He thought carefully, painstakingly. The same factors were all there. The grief, anger, and fear of the summer. The suffocating relief when she was miraculously brought into the holding cell. When he let Jeanne go, when he chose his real life over their fake one, it had hurt. But, it didn't choke him. Didn't make him go through the robotic motions of life in a daze. Not like last summer. Not like with Ziva. With Ziva, it had been different. Different from all the rest. The others hurt him; tore off little pieces of his heart with each dramatic exit. But her, well, her simple exit nearly killed him. But, that wasn't love…?
It was dark, and not dank but dry. She could hear the wind whistling over the sands, and the muffled distant sounds of her captors. But, she was not alone in her prison. Something, no, someone was here with her. He was always here. Whether she imagined him or not, his presence never wavered. She licked her cracked lips and swallowed, barely enough saliva to quench her parched throat. She smelled the salt of her sweat, and the coppery scent of her own blood. She lay, curled in the fetal position on the dusty floor. When he'd finished violating her, he'd simply left her there, knowing she was too weak to cause him any further trouble. And he was lazy and tired after exhausting himself on her body. Her abdomen ached and pounded in time with her heart, which had not yet settled into a resting beat. She forced herself into an upright seated position when a shadow crept silently into the room. As the looming figure stumbled closer, her eyes were able to identify the form of the large, strong man who had undoubtedly, finally, come to her rescue. She could see his hands clutching at his chest, and that his steps were labored. He stops, close enough for her to see the green eyes, but far enough to be out of reach. He meets her eyes and reveals what he has been hiding. A large, gaping hole, pouring forth life. The sight does not even shock her, anymore.
"Your heart," she whispers.
"For you," he breathes back and wavers on his legs.
She looks down at her own hands and sees it still beating there. Looking back up to him for answers, she finds she is alone again. But his heart remains, still and silent. Cold, in her hands.
Tim awoke to the distinctive sounds of sobbing. Opening his eyes, he frantically tried to remember where he was. Instinctively, he reached for the warm body curled against him. His movements stirred her awake, and she stretched and yawned.
"Timmy, what's wrong?"
"Sssh. Abby, do you hear that?" McGee whispered.
Abby cocked her head to listen more attentively. She looked over to the readout on the cable box, illuminating the darkness. 1:00 am. When she finally heard it, she choked back a sob of her own. "My God, Tim, she's crying. In her sleep!"
"Should we wake her? Where's the laptop?" Tim looked around the room.
Abby rose from the couch and began creeping towards the hallway. "It's in her room, Tim. I can see the light from here. She must've taken Tony with her when we fell asleep."
"If he's sleeping, he won't hear her," Tim muttered. "We shouldn't wake him unless we have to."
"I agree, but what should we do? We can't just let her cry in her sleep, like that!" She threw her arms up in the air, gesturing her frustration and sadness.
"I know, I know. Hold on, let me think," he rubbed the heels of his palms on his temples.
Before either of them could come to a decision, they heard Tony's groggy voice over the speakers, "Sssh, Zi. It's ok, I'm right here. You're home, you're safe. I'm right here. I love you; go back to sleep." They heard him yawn and then a rustling sound on the bed.
Abby looked back to Tim, her eyes welling with tears as she mouthed silently, "Awwww!"
Tim grinned, in spite of himself, and motioned for her to come back to the couch. He stretched out on his back, feeling the distinctive popping in his spine. He realized there were now pillows and blankets scattered on the couch and floor, and propped one of the pillows under his head trying to get more comfortable. When Abby was certain that Ziva was sleeping soundly, again, she tip-toed her way back to the couch, stopping in front of it and putting her hands on her hips as she looked down at McGee, who was sprawled out over its expanse.
"Do you expect me to sleep on the floor, Timmy?"
He laughed quietly. "This couch is a lot wider than your coffin. Come on, there's plenty of room." He rolled up onto his side with his chest facing the edge of the couch and Abby, opening his arms for her. She gingerly took her place as he wrapped his arms around her and snuggled his chin into the top of her head. "See? I told you we'd both fit," he whispered through a stifled yawn.
Abby snuggled her back closer to Tim's chest and yawned, herself. "Yes, Timmy. I know. You're always right." She reached down to the floor in front of the couch, retrieving one of the blankets there and haphazardly draped it over them. After readjusting to get comfortable, they were both asleep again in minutes.
Well, I think Gibbs' little revelation to Tony and Ziva's rather heavy dream sequence are enough angst for this chapter. Sorry for the delay in updating, but I warned you ahead of time! This chapter also really gave me a run for my money; I had a serious case of writer's block until I found some notes I had previously scribbled on a scrap of paper about how to continue this. I forgot to mention above a big thank you to everyone who has also added this story or myself to their favorites and update lists. If you have a suggestion, or any helpful criticism, send it on over! Be on the lookout for possibly two one-shots that popped into my head after reading speculation about ep 7.21 on the CBS boards. Speaking of CBS, I guess I should put another disclaimer in here…"so let it be written, so let it be done." *sigh* I love Yul Brynner!