And then there is only one chapter left. I never expected myself to be persistent enough to actually finish this. This is a scene I wrote quite long ago, it just popped up in my head and I can really see it :) Next chapter will be the final one - I already finished it, it only needs a bit of polishing - so if there was ever a good time to review, it is now. Thanks everyone for the support so far :) Enjoy, and review!
'Come on Ziva, you can't wear my sweats forever.' Tony said, trying to get Ziva to do some clothes-shopping for the hundredth time. 'And you like to take a walk, don't you?'
'Not in streets filled with people.' Ziva snapped back. 'I can order my clothes online.' she added.
'And walk around like this for two more weeks? Don't be such a baby and just go with me.'
'You called me a baby?' Ziva said indignantly. She wanted to remind him of the torture she had lived through, but changed her mind. It was not worth losing her calm she had kept up so nicely the last days over this.
'Ok. But I only go where I want to go.' she bargained.
Tony smiled widely. 'Of course.' he said, and went to get her – or his, actually – coat.
He watched as she walked to the car. She was still on medication, so she sat in the shotgun position without arguing. His sweatpants she was wearing, were way too big for her. She used his belt – wrapped around her waist twice – to keep it in place. The same went for the T-shirt, sweater and jacket she was wearing. She looked so nonchalant yet small in them.
They went into the first jeans shop they encountered. Ziva picked a few pairs, and hid in a dressing room. Tony saw how a shop-assistant joined her in her search and decided she didn't need his help with this. Shopping was, after all, a girl-thing.
So he read a paper, probably left by another man, for about thirty minutes until somebody tapped on his shoulder. He looked up into the face of the shop-assistant that had helped Ziva.
'Sorry?' he asked, not knowing what she wanted from him. The girl blushed and fidgeted with her key cord with her name card.
'Ehm…' she started. 'Your girlfriend is crying, in the fourth dressing room on the left.' she finally threw out.
Tony frowned. Ziva, crying in public? Though she had changed, this didn't sound like her.
'You sure you've got the right person?' he asked politely.
The girl blushed even deeper. 'Dark hair, foreign features, in sweats and a man's coat?' she managed to stumble out.
That did sound like Ziva. Damn. Tony got up quickly and broke into a run. His mistake. All his mistake. Oh, why on earth was he so stupid.
And it sounded like her, too. Tony knocked on the door.
'Ziva, open up! What's wrong?' he asked worried and thought briefly about kicking in the door. A sob was his answer.
'Ziva? Let me in!' he called. Lots of people stared at him, and it annoyed Tony endlessly. Obviously, none of them had ever gone shopping with a traumatized ex-Mossad assassin. He glared his best effort of a Gibbs glare, and though it wasn't half as intimidating as the original, most people turned their gazes away.
The lock clicked and Tony wriggled himself in through the smallest gap he could manage. Ziva sat on the floor, her knees pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. On the stool were the jeans piled up. Ziva was bare-legged.
Tony crouched so he was at Ziva's level. 'What's up, Ziver?' he asked – and there was the little nickname again, slipping through the cracks, revealing more than he wanted to. Ziva shook her head and dropped it onto her knees.
Tony sat down next to her and placed his arm around her shaking shoulders. 'Tell me Ziva. What can I do?' he asked, serious now. She shook her head again, and pointed to the pile of jeans. 'I am…I am…' she stuttered. 'I am nothing!'
Tony's brow furrowed, not understanding. 'What do you mean?'
Ziva looked up, her face shiny from the tears she had shed already. Then she stood and Tony stood with her, supporting her unstable legs.
'Look!' she said, and pointed at her legs. She pulled the sweater and the T-shirt over her head. 'Look!' she said again.
And Tony looked. Though she wasn't half as skinny as she had been when they had found her, you could still count her ribs and her hipbones stuck out further than they should. But Ziva had never been bothered about the way she looked. Yes, she had always been slim, but that was only due to the extensive training she had kept up, even when she had been in the US for years. It was not like she had ever cared what she ate. She used to eat just as much as Tony, sometimes even more.
'Tony, I only fit child sizes! It is all skin and bones. Just look at me!' Ziva said, her voice low but with a scared, panicky edge.
Tony picked her T-shirt and sweater up from the ground, and helped her into it. 'Don't worry, Ziver.' he tried to comfort her. 'You'll gain weight, it will only take some time. And you're still pretty, believe me.' He hadn't really meant to say the last sentence, but it was out before he knew.
Ziva shook her head, not satisfied with Tony's offered comfort.
'It's not that, is it?' Tony asked, while searching for the sweatpants.
'No.' Ziva said quietly. Tony just wanted to ask what was up then, and how he could help her dealing, when the words flooded out of her mouth like a dam had broken.
'It is just, like I am now, I cannot even walk without being afraid to fall. I am so weak, I cannot take care of myself. I am so dependent and I hate it! Everybody can incapacitate me now, I cannot defend myself, I cannot fight when someone is trying to harm me. The only thing I can do is hope that fighting will not be necessary, and I failed to believe in hope long ago. I have no choice but to ask from you what I cannot ask, and I do not want to do that! I want to be the one you should not trifle with, the protector, not the one who is protected. I hate being vulnerable!' she finished, and drew in a breath.
Tony nodded, not knowing what to say. He could say that she would be better soon; that would be a lie. He could say that he would protect her; that would only greaten her feeling of helplessness. So he silently helped her into the sweats again, tying the belt around her waist for her and wrapping her in his coat.
'Let's go home.' he whispered. Ziva nodded weakly and stumbled to her feet. Tony held out his arm and she steadied herself with it.
'Do you want me to carry you?' he asked, knowing that she wouldn't appreciate it if he didn't ask. She sighed, hunched and nodded, admitting the leap of strength more than Tony had thought possible. He picked her up bridal style and opened the door with his elbow. Ziva hid her face in his chest as if she were a little girl; she didn't want to see all the people looking, some even gaping at her. Tony sent an angry glare into the public and when that didn't help, he faintly brushed his coat aside with his elbow so his SIG was clearly visible. Normally, he hadn't wanted to be armed when he was not on duty, but now he felt obliged to protect Ziva and offer her as much security as he could. Hell, if she would allow it he would stuff her into a bullet-proof vest twenty-four seven.
'It's going to be ok, Ziver.' he whispered down at her. 'When you're through this, you'll be stronger than you ever were.'