A/N: Without further ado, I present to you the last two chapters of this little tale.
Fourteen.
The doctor tells her that he cannot rule out a possible concussion and insists that she stay in the hospital overnight for observation. Tony concurs, and Ziva rages a little but does not sign herself out against medical advice. She also does not refuse the painkillers that are offered to her.
She thinks it's a sign that she has gone soft but she shrugs to herself. Nobody cares if she has gone soft. It took a long time, but she has learned that soft is not a weakness.
The young burly police officer, whose name is Moretti, brings Tony a cup of coffee. As it turns out, he speaks English quite well, and he is able to update Tony and Ziva on the questioning of the two suspects who were shot by Ziva.
"They are both alive and cooperating somewhat. They are brothers, Italian citizens, recent recruits to Hamas. We are working with our antiterrorist unit to get more information," Moretti tells them. "I believe AISE is coordinating with your agency as well. There are a lot of people looking for more information regarding the men who kidnapped you, Agent David. In the meantime, we will provide protection until you can safely leave the country. There is an officer stationed outside your room. If you need to contact me, the officer will be able to help you."
She raises her eyebrows. "I am no longer an NCIS agent, but thank you for the information."
If Moretti is surprised by this, he does not let it show. "Grazie," Tony adds. The younger man nods at them both and steps out of Ziva's room.
Tony blinks and suddenly remembers. "Gibbs and McGee are on their way here," he says. He checks the clock. "They should be landing in Pisa in a few hours, and then it'll be another half an hour or so until they're here. McGee will get my text that we found you when they land. I let Abby and Bishop know, too."
Staring down at the stark white sheets on her fairly uncomfortable hospital bed, she nods. He sits in a chair next to the bed, sipping the coffee Moretti brought him. It is strong but he hardly notices. "I am sorry, Tony," she says softly.
He looks at her. "For getting kidnapped?" he asks, confused.
She shrugs. "Yes, and for not being more careful. You tried to warn me. I did not listen."
"This isn't your fault," he tells her, looking into her eyes to get his point across. "We both should have been more careful."
"This isn't your fault," she echoes his words, knowing how he carries guilt on his shoulders like the Greek god Atlas.
He takes her hand and laces their fingers together. "I was pretty scared," he admits.
She bites her lower lip and looks away briefly. He thinks he might see tears in her eyes, but it might also be a trick of the light. "Me, too," she says softly. Then she gives him a lopsided smile. "I knew you would find me."
"I always do, Sweetcheeks. But I think you saved yourself here." He squeezes her hand.
She nods. The painkillers are working their magic and she slowly drifts off to a dreamless sleep, still holding his hand.
He wakes to the sound of footsteps nearby and opens an eye to see if it is a nurse. Gibbs and McGee stand just inside the room. Tony imagines they are taking in the scene before them, with Ziva sleeping in the hospital bed, her hand still in his, and him awkwardly slouched in the chair.
"Hey guys," Tony says, lifting a hand but not standing up, mostly because he is unable to move from sleeping in a chair and also because he does not want to let go of her hand. He had thought about climbing into the bed with Ziva but figured nurses would be in and out of the room monitoring her and he should stay relatively out of the way.
"She okay?" Gibbs asks softly, watching Ziva sleep.
"Broken nose, bruised ribs and face, and various cuts and burns, but otherwise fine. They don't think she has a concussion, although they clearly hit her head pretty hard," Tony replies, listing her injuries.
"My head is pretty hard," Ziva says, opening her eyes. "Hello Gibbs, McGee."
McGee goes over and takes her other hand. "Hi Ziva. We were pretty worried."
"I am okay," she responds. "I still cannot believe someone got the leap on me."
"Jump," Tony corrects automatically. "But yeah, maybe your stealth detection skills are a little rusty. You haven't really needed them."
Just then, a nurse bustles into the room and sees Ziva's two new visitors. In Italian, she chides them all. Ziva translates. "The nurse would like you to leave so they can examine me to see if I can be discharged."
McGee smiles at her and steps back. "We'll wait outside," he says.
Gibbs leans over and kisses the top of her head. "Good to see you, Ziver."
"Want me to stay?" Tony asks.
"No, it will be fine. Go get breakfast," she tells him. He kisses her good cheek and steps out of the room.
"Sorry you guys came all the way out here," Tony says, yawning before taking a big bite out of a pastry. If they stay in Italy much longer, he is going to weigh 400 pounds.
"Rule six, DiNozzo. Never apologize," Gibbs admonishes, taking a swig of coffee. "If you hadn't found her by now, you would have needed us."
Tony shrugs. "That's the thing. We didn't find her. She escaped and we happened to stumble upon her."
"Ziva can take care of herself. We always knew that," McGee responds. "So that shouldn't be too surprising."
"Well, no, it's not surprising. But I'm worried about her." Tony pauses to collect his thoughts. "I think she really did find the peace she was looking for and I'm worried that this will set her back. She's been living a pretty normal life and none of this has been normal."
Gibbs says, simply, "If she really found her peace, she'll bounce back."
As always, Gibbs knows what to say and says it in the least number of words necessary.
She is discharged from the hospital that morning. Tony brings her fresh clothing from their hotel room, and as she steps into the fresh air, flanked by Tony, Gibbs, and McGee, she blinks in the sunlight. She hates hospitals, no matter what country the hospital is in, with their universal smell of imminent death. They remind her of a time when she thought Tony was dying, and of Michael Rivkin, and of Lieutenant Roy Sanders, and countless times her NCIS team members were injured. Even an overnight stay is too long.
They stand at the front of the hospital, all unsure where to go next. "What's the plan?" Tony asks.
"McGee and I are on the next flight back to DC that Travel can get for us. Vance wants us back. We were in the middle of another case and we don't have jurisdiction," Gibbs responds. McGee's face falls almost imperceptibly at this, and Tony can tell he was hoping they could stay for a day before making the long flight back. "You coming with us, Tony?"
He hesitates, looking at Ziva. "You're going back to Israel, right?"
She nods, confirming. "I need to talk to my professors about final exams and figure out if I can graduate or not. Then I will need to close up my house and pack some things."
"You're moving? Back to the US?" McGee asks her.
"Yes," she says, glancing briefly at Tony and smiling. The look is not lost on the tech-savvy younger agent and he grins broadly at her.
"Abby will be thrilled," McGee says, excited. "And Gibbs, though he'll never admit it."
This earns him a head slap. "I'm right here, McGee. And I'm glad you're coming back, Ziver," Gibbs says, giving her a rare smile. "I need your help keeping the knuckleheads under control."
"You're not coming back to NCIS, are you?" McGee asks.
She shakes her head. "No. I will be attending graduate school at Georgetown." She does not elaborate on her chosen next career, figuring she will avoid a head slap of her own until absolutely necessary.
"I'll go back to Israel with you," Tony says casually, avoiding eye contact with Gibbs. "After all, some of the guys who kidnapped you are still out there. You need protection."
He can feel Gibbs' eyes drilling holes into him. After a long pause during which Tony mentally crosses his fingers and braces for a head slap, Gibbs responds. "You get a week. Anything longer and you gotta take vacation time."
That sounds perfectly reasonable to Tony.
They are greeted by Orli Elbaz as soon as they land in Tel Aviv. "It is not safe for you to return to your house, Ziva," she says as they travel through the airport, flanked by her protection detail. "You will stay in a hotel until you are ready to leave Israel. I spoke with Director Vance, who relayed your intention to move back to the United States. I think that is a prudent move. As you are well aware, you are a target even as a private citizen and it is better if you are further away from your father's enemies."
"My things?" Ziva asks, otherwise unruffled by the barrage of information from the older woman.
"They were packed up by officers and are being stored in a secured location. We will send them when you have an address in the US." Ziva nods in satisfaction at this. Tony supposes she is used to others packing up her things and moving to a new country on short notice.
Orli guides them into a car, driven by another officer. "In addition, I spoke with the university and I think you will find your professors are willing to allow you to take examinations late and, provided you pass, you will be able to graduate."
Ziva sighs a breath of relief at this news, leaning her head back against her seat. On the one hand, she hates using her father's connections, but on the other, she has to live with the enemies he left, so why shouldn't she benefit from him as well?
Tony remains quiet during the conversation, choosing to just watch his former partner's reactions. She seems more comfortable around the woman she once admitted to hating and wonders if, in the last few years, they had been able to set aside any grudges they may have held. In fact, she seems remarkably calm for someone who had been kidnapped 48 hours ago. With the exception of the terror she experienced in Somalia, she had always been able to quickly put up a facade of being okay, although he could always see past it.
Either she has gotten better at pretending to be okay or she really was fine. He couldn't decide which concerns him more.
Later that night, in the hotel room to which Orli brought them, he sees the facade crack. They are relaxing in bed, tv turned to a movie that Tony has of course seen before. As usual, he occasionally spouts off a random factoid that only he would bother to remember.
In the middle of one of his monologues concerning the difficulty of filming in that particular location, he glances over at her and is startled to see tears sliding down her cheeks. "Sweetcheeks?" he asks tentatively.
She wipes her cheeks with the palms of her hands and looks at him. The sadness in her dark eyes makes him want to gather her up in his arms and hold her, but he isn't sure that is what she needs. Instead, he takes hold of one of her hands and squeezes it, trying to convey in that one touch that he is there for her and will keep her from drifting away in a sea of sadness.
"It never ends," she says quietly after a few minutes. He looks questioningly at her but doesn't say anything. After a moment, she continues. "There is always another monster. Even when I stopped going after them, they still come for me."
There is always another monster.
He remembers when she said that in the elevator after Mike Franks died, killed by Jonas Cobb. He has reassured her then that they would get Cobb. They did get him but now he sees that he had missed the point. They got Cobb. Then they got Harper Dearing. Then Benham Parsa. And so on and so on. For so many years, they were embroiled in a grotesque parade of people who wanted them dead.
And then she left her life, left everyone she cared about, sacrificed the happiness she had found to build a new life with less death, and maybe she got a couple of years of reprieve, but the monsters keep coming. He thinks it is mostly because of the legacy left by her father. When her father died, his enemies became her enemies, even if she tried to make it otherwise. Maybe some of the monsters are of her creation, from her time with Mossad. He doesn't know a lot of what she had done and he may never know. It doesn't matter to him.
It all culminates into a burden she will likely have to carry for a long time, if not the rest of her life.
"I know," he says, unwilling to spout off empty platitudes.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I know that all we can do is keep moving forward. But it is difficult."
This may be the first time he has heard her admit that something is tough for her. And right then, he stops worrying whether the peace she claims to have found is real. He knows it is.