Sunday morning Ziva left her building at 7 am to go for a run but she came to an abrupt halt outside the doors, surprised and more than a little confused to find Tony sitting on a bench in shorts and a t-shirt. She lifted one eyebrow and he shrugged.
"I thought maybe we could make this a tradition," Tony commented. So far, this would be the second Sunday morning they'd done a run together.
Ziva didn't say anything as he fell into step beside her and Tony took that as a yes. Having never run from Harmon House before, Ziva had been planning to experiment with distance and time, but for her partner's sake she kept the pace undemanding and the length to just two miles. One easy day couldn't hurt too much, she reasoned.
The two were silent as they focused on their breathing and pumped their arms and legs in a steady rhythm. As often as he could, Tony let his eyes stray to Ziva, enjoying the freedom of her movement and her disciplined form. It was good to see that she didn't move like she hurt any more. He'd hated those early days when every step, every reach, every twist and turn had been checked, as her eyes, if not her face, betrayed the pain her body was in. Today was a breath of fresh air compared to that.
Ziva ended the route two blocks from her apartment and Tony spied the small diner they'd gone to Friday night with the team. A raise of his eyebrows and a grin asked the question, and his partner, always able to read him well, nodded her head in agreement.
They slipped into a booth, both scanning the room out of habit, noting number of people, their locations, and what escape routes were available. The diner was pretty quiet for the early hour, but Tony guessed that in a little while it would be bustling with people.
After a minute, a middle aged woman glided over with menus and a notepad in her hand. "Mornin'," she smiled. "I'm Helen. Coffee to start?"
"Please," Tony dipped his head, already liking her.
"I will have tea," Ziva said softly.
"Tea and coffee coming right up. Take a peek at the menu and see what sounds good. I have to say," she winked, "Dan makes the best corn beef hash I've ever had."
"I'll keep that in mind," Tony promised, flipping to the first page.
By the time their hot drinks had arrived, Tony and Ziva knew what they wanted. Helen bit her tongue to keep from mentioning how similar their tastes were. Or rather, opposite, but still in sync somehow. Tony got scrambled eggs and white toast, Ziva chose poached eggs and brown toast. Tony got bacon, "Crispy please," he added, and Ziva chose ham, obviously not feeling kosher this morning. Tony was enthusiastic about the homefries that came with his breakfast, Ziva managed to sweet talk Helen into switching hers for veggies at no extra charge. It wasn't that hard.
While they waited, Tony and Ziva kept the conversation casual, related to work and friends and absolutely nothing personal. Their meals arrived in record time and Helen watched from a distance in fascination as Ziva rolled a couple of her carrots onto Tony's plate, and he set a piece of bacon next to her ham. They acted as if there was nothing unusual about their behaviour and it made her wonder. They seemed like a couple and yet not at the same time.
Digging through the packages of jam, Ziva handed Tony two strawberry ones and took grape for herself. Later, Tony pushed his plate to the middle of the table so they could share the rest of his homefries. Helen wondered if they realized how good they were together.
Satisfied at last, Ziva leaned back against the seat and Tony reached for the money he'd tucked into a pocket, hoping for this. Ziva frowned, wanting to argue, but having not planned for breakfast, she did not bring any cash with her. After saying goodbye to Helen, who treated the couple like her new favourite customers, they walked leisurely back to her building.
As Ziva turned to say thank you and goodbye, she saw Tony rummaging for something in the backseat of his car. Standing up, he held his laptop and two movies. "Chronicles of Narnia, Ziva," Tony grinned, "a great way to spend the rest of the morning."
Unable to reason with the light in his eyes, Ziva rolled hers and led the way up to her place. Once inside, she gathered her things and pointed to the couch. "Relax. I am going for a shower."
Tony stared after her. He hadn't expected that. Hearing the lock turn, he immediately looked for something to occupy himself. Thinking about Ziva in the shower was not a good idea. Glancing around, Tony's eyes fell on her key ring. Less than ten minutes later Ziva stepped out of the bathroom, running a brush through her hair. Her partner was lounging on the couch playing Hangman on his phone. He raised his eyes to her and looked uncertain.
"Hey, it is okay if I grab a shower too? If you're hanging out with me for awhile it would be nice if I didn't stink."
Ziva shrugged. "I do not have any extra towels." And letting him use hers would cross a huge black line that she wasn't ready for.
Tony held up a black bag. "Grabbed my overnight stuff from my trunk."
"Alright," she said slowly, "that is fine."
"You're sure?" Tony didn't want to be invading her space in any way.
"Yes," she repeated. "I will find something to do."
"Ten minutes," Tony promised and Ziva laughed. He looked confused. "What?"
"Have you ever noticed that men take much longer in the shower than women? Your hair is not even long."
Tony patted his head self-consciously. "I use special shampoo."
Ziva bit her lip and turned toward her bedroom as soon as he closed the door. She was not entirely comfortable with Tony showering at her apartment and it suddenly seemed that much smaller. She was about to find a way to keep busy in her room when her eyes fell on Tony's laptop.
The war waged within her was very brief. Ziva lifted the lid and pressed the on button. The desktop became visible and she scanned the icons, interested to see what Tony kept on his computer. A folder labeled simply "ZD" caught her eye, and Ziva's brow wrinkled. She hesitated for a long moment before clicking on it, surprised to see about twelve files with her name on them, each bearing a different date.
Ziva opened the first one and scanned the document quickly. It wasn't very long.
Why did you stay in Israel Zi? I missed you before the plane wheels were even up. I've picked up my phone to call you a dozen times, but I can never actually dial the number. I wish you'd let me say I'm sorry, because I am. Maybe I should've been the one who got shot. Maybe that would've been easier for everyone.
Her eyes widened and she stared in horror at the words. This was Tony's diary, but they were letters to her. She touched the screen gently, blocking out the last sentences. She was no longer sorry Tony was the one who survived. Michael was not who she thought, who she hoped. Tony was everything she hoped.
The thought struck her motionless and Ziva tried to pretend she hadn't just said those words in her head. To distract herself, she closed that document and opened one in the middle.
Two months Zi. It's been two months since you left and we haven't heard anything, not a word. I'd understand if it was just me, I know you probably still hate me for killing your boyfriend, but you haven't even contacted Abby. McShrink said maybe you needed a clean break but I thought this was your home, I thought we were your family. Come home Ziva. We miss you, we need you.
Left unwritten were the echoes of Tony's voice that she could hear in her mind. I miss you. I need you. She'd been in the middle of hell when he'd typed that, caring, missing her even when she thought they had all written her off. Tears stung at the corner of her eyes but Ziva willed them away. She wasn't done yet.
The next one she chose was two from the bottom. It was very brief.
Gibbs told us today that you died when the Damocles sank. My heart no longer beats and life has become a blur. Nothing will ever fill this gaping hole in my life. I think I might've loved you Ziva, now I'll never know.
Her tears did more than threaten as she stared at the screen, feeling the raw pain emanating from her partner's words. But before she even had time to process what she'd read, the water in the bathroom turned off. Afraid of getting caught, Ziva quickly shut everything down and put the computer back where she'd found it.
Grabbing a book off the shelf, she plopped onto her bed and opened it, pretending to read when Tony stuck his head in the door a few minutes later. Her heart was pounding and when she thought back, Ziva would be glad she'd grabbed one of the Hebrew novels, because Tony hadn't known she was holding it upside-down.
NCIS
Ziva had read the Chronicles of Narnia books as a child and was surprised to discover that the movies were well done. Tony did catch her crossing her arms and muttering a few times about them changing things, but other than that she was pleasant company.
He felt her eyes on him more than once, but every time Tony looked at Ziva, she focused back on the movie. It struck him as strange and something seemed to have changed. They sat with shoulders brushing and Ziva's feet almost tucked under his leg, because she had her knees pulled up. Tony knew being so close wasn't usually her favourite thing, but this day she didn't even try to move away and he smiled, hoping it was a step back to where they had been before she left his place.
Halfway through the second movie, Ziva paused it. "Are you hungry? I can make lunch."
Tony shrugged, never one to turn down food. "Okay. Want help?"
She shook her head. "No thank you."
He watched her walk into the kitchen and then minimized the movie program and looked at the one folder on his desktop that never failed to remind him to be thankful for Ziva. With a few quick clicks he buried the folder in his documents, so glad he didn't need it any more.
Next, Tony went looking for the new folder he'd created the day after they brought her home. This one was labeled simply, "ILY", for the words 'I love you', a revelation he'd been trying hard to grasp at that point. They were words he still feared he might never get the chance to say or hear reciprocated.
Several documents were already inside, many of them more than half a page long, a far cry from his original snippets of letters to Ziva. These ones were full of his hopes and dreams, and cataloged his pain for her as he watched her struggle day after day to simply live again. Tony opened a new document and saved it with the rest.
You have a home now Ziva, your own space, and though I know you wanted it and need it, I still wish you could've found your home with me.
His fingers hovered over the keys, wondering if he should continue. Ziva could turn around at any moment and only heaven knew how much of his heart was in his eyes right now. Stifling a sigh, Tony let the words come.
I miss you Zi. In my car every morning, in my apartment after work, in my kitchen while we cook, in my bed when we were asleep. I had everything I ever wanted when I held you in my arms and even though I knew those days and hours couldn't last, I still hoped so badly that they would.
Tony dragged a hand over his face, the sound of Ziva humming in the kitchen momentarily distracting him from a page full of regrets.
It's so quiet at my place without you there and my life feels empty even when I see you sitting across from me at work every day. I love you, Ziva David, I just wish you were ready to hear me say it.
The sound of footsteps alerted Tony to Ziva's return and he quickly shut the document down and threw the movie back up on screen. He reached for the bowl and stared in disbelief, complaining out of principle. "Salad, really?" he had to ask.
Ziva rolled her eyes. "It is not just lettuce Tony," she explained patiently. "There are shaved carrots, alfalfa sprouts, celery, cucumber, leftover roast beef and dressing. Just try it."
"I'll try it," he groused, gathering a forkful, "but I highly doubt..." His words trailed off as Tony took a bite, then waved his fork to stall until he could continue. His eyes widened and he swallowed. "Wow, this is fantastic!"
She chuckled. "Tony DiNozzo likes salad? I never thought I would see the day."
"Me either," he admitted. Then he pressed play on the movie again and proceeded to wolf down the rest of the green stuff in his bowl. It wasn't even five minutes later when Tony turned to her with a pleading look.
Ziva delicately took another forkful of salad and chewed it slowly, pretending she didn't notice. Tony didn't stop staring at her until she finished the last bit in the bottom of her bowl. "Alright Tony," she smiled, "you may have seconds." He beamed and gratefully handed over his bowl. Ziva gave him a knowing look. It was her favourite salad too.
By early afternoon the movies were over and before Tony could even try to come up with an excuse to not leave yet, Ziva leaned over and pulled open the doors of her coffee table. "I found a chess set under here last night," she explained, "with a note from Ducky saying he no longer needed it and seemed to remember I enjoyed playing." Ziva tilted her head to the side. "Would you like to play a game? I could teach you."
Glad for anything that let him stay, Tony agreed. "I know how to play," he announced, surprising her. "This old butler Dad kept on staff, Jeffrey, taught me the game when I was ten, said it was a good way to keep me out of mischief for awhile."
Pleased that he was sharing a memory with her, Ziva smiled and began setting up the board. Tony put some classic movie soundtrack music on, adjusting the sound for his laptop, wanting to forestall any awkward silences. He could always sing along, if they needed a distraction. Then he helped Ziva finish putting the pieces in place. The board was set up in the middle of her coffee table and they both slipped to the floor to sit one on either side.
Ziva took white and they began. One after another she countered his moves and though Tony put up a valiant fight, she beat him soundly. Two games later he was still no closer to winning. "Oh, come on Ziva," he groaned, "give a guy a break!"
She looked up in surprise. "You want me to toss the game?"
He rolled his eyes. "Throw. And no, but I wish you weren't so good at this. I guess I'm a little rusty."
A triumphant smile lit her face. "Check!" she said gleefully.
"Not again!" Tony sighed and surveyed his remaining pieces. "You don't have to gloat," he muttered and Ziva tried to rein in her smile. Finally he found another move he could make and the game continued for awhile longer. Still, despite his complaining, Tony honestly couldn't think of a better way to spend a couple of hours, looking at his partner over the chessboard. It was a memory he wouldn't soon forget.