Consequences of Love and War: Chapter 29
A/N: Just to catch you up on the story, if you've missed anything: Ezra Hardoon, a Mossad operative undercover in Afghanistan who recently had an unplanned several week stay in the American detainee system, unfortunately didn't know anything about the abduction of Dr. Alyse Aachen or who was been behind it. He did give a name, Niko Zajac, of a Belarusian bad guy who had been financing Taliban cells in the Kabul area and therefore might know something about Dr. Aachen. After discovering that Zajac was on the guest list for an off-season party in the Hamptons at Alessandro DiNozzo's estate, Tony and Ziva wrangled an invitation to the party, during which they apprehended and questioned Zajac (with Gibbs, McGee, Abby, and half of the federal agents in the DC area watching from MTAC), who was adament that his contacts had nothing to do with Dr. Aachen's abduction.
It was dawn by the time Tony and Ziva returned to the DiNozzo estate. After more 'chatting' with Zajac, they analyzed the interrogation and the intel they received with the crowd in MTAC, an ordeal that took longer than it should have, on account of the number of different agencies who all claimed that the case was theirs. In the end, they had left the arms dealer in the custody of the East Hampton Police Department until a representative from the Homeland Security New York office could arrive and deal with him from there. After that, well, they had no idea what would happen to him, and neither particularly cared.
The limo, rented from the service Alessandro DiNozzo had on retainer, was returned, and the few extra hundreds that Tony stuffed into the front pocket of the guy manning the desk ensured that he wouldn't be talking to anybody about who had borrowed one of their vehicles or the fact that they did so without one of their drivers, which went directly against their policy. After that, Tony drove the Mustang back to the estate, neither speaking a word during the drive.
The last few guests were taking off when Tony swung the convertible into a parking place in his father's garage, their drunken laughter echoing over the lawns of the estate. "Are you coming upstairs?" Ziva finally asked as they entered the house from the door closest to Tony's old bedroom. He stopped and looked at her for a moment before shaking his head slightly.
"I'll be up in a few minutes," he replied. He took her hand and pulled her closer to him, kissing her on the cheek. "Go to bed. You don't need to wait up for me." She frowned; she knew a dismissal when she heard one, but nodded her agreement.
"Tony," she said from a few steps up the staircase, stopping and turning to look back at him. He looked exhausted, even more so than she felt; his bowtie was untied, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his hair in as much disarray as it could get. "We did well tonight. Everything went as it was supposed to."
"Except we didn't get what we came here for," he said sourly. "We still don't know where Dr. Aachen is or how the hell we're going to find her." She didn't say anything to that, knowing that when he was in one of those moods, that there was nothing to be said.
She had removed her jewelry and was about to get out of the dress when she changed her mind. She didn't care if he was being his usual obstinate self; she wasn't going to let him wallow in his pity. She resolutely marched from the guestroom, determined to find him, even if she had to search every room in the estate to do so.
He wasn't in any room on the second floor, but it didn't take her long to find him, standing in the first room down a short hallway from the foyer. Judging from the dark décor and large mahogany desk, he was standing in his father's study. She stood silently in the doorway, watching him as he stared at something she couldn't make out. "You should be in bed," he finally said, not turning to acknowledge her. "It's been a long couple of days."
"It has been just as long for you," she replied. She stepped into the room and glanced at the framed picture in his hands. She recognized Alessandro DiNozzo, although he was probably more than thirty years younger, his hair still black and his face relatively unlined. The blond woman at his side had a certain refined beauty, and just enough similarities to Tony that she was sure that this was his mother, which meant that the grinning towheaded boy between them had to be Tony. He turned to face her before she had the chance to cover up her wide grin.
"What?" he asked, sounding annoyed as he returned the picture to his father's desk with care. Her eyes followed the picture as he replaced it, giving her a quick glimpse at the picture it stood next to, one that appeared to be a teenager in a red basketball jersey. She lifted her eyes to see Tony looking expectantly at her and smiled again.
"You were very cute as a child," she said, still grinning.
"As a child?" he asked automatically, giving her his best 'aren't I charming?' grin. She just rolled her eyes before crossing the room to sit in one of the overstuffed brown leather chairs.
"Why are you so upset?" she asked a minute later, after it became obvious he wasn't going to say anything else. "We captured a man who had been financing terrorists. He confessed, and now he will be spending the rest of his life in an undisclosed location determined by Homeland Security. We have also ruled out one suspect in Dr. Aachen's abduction—"
He interrupted with a sharp, humorless laugh. "Leaving how many thousands of possible suspects?"
"Tony…" Her voice trailed off as she realized that any possible argument she had would fall on deaf ears.
"I can't lose you again." She blinked in surprise at the words, as well as the low, serious tone he spoke them in. She didn't know what time he was talking about losing her—when she returned to Israel after Jenny's death, when she shut him out of her life when dealing with her father's illness, the brief time that they were 'broken up' for reasons she still didn't quite understand—but she had a feeling that she was beginning to understand why he was so upset at the outcome of that night's interrogation. She rose from her chair and stood in front of him, taking his face between his hands.
"You are not losing me," she said emphatically.
He shook his head as well as he could with her hands still on his jaw. "And what happens with Ruthven follows through on his threats to terminate your position and sends you to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what?"
She finally took a step back. "There is no use renting trouble."
"Borrowing trouble. Not renting. And solving this case—"
"Is still not a guarantee that Vance will give you Burley's position next year," she interrupted.
"Thanks," he said dryly. "That makes me feel better."
She rolled her eyes again. "My point, Tony, is that nothing will change with us. No matter the outcome of this case or of either of our directors' decisions."
"I know you have some mad ninja skills thanks to your top-notch Mossad training to prepare you to go off on all these top-secret missions, but unless you've learned how to pull a Neo without me knowing, bullets don't respect Mossad training." She frowned at the statement, prompting him to explain. "The Matrix—the first one, because the other two parts of the trilogy just gave me a headache. Keanu Reeves is a disenchanted computer programmer who—." He stopped talking after she put her hand over his mouth.
"I do not care about your movie references," she snapped. "You need to stop beating yourself with this case. You are acting like it is the only thing that is standing between where you are now and getting your own team, and me working for NCIS or being reassigned to Metsada. It is not a winner-take-all case. You have almost ten years of service in NCIS; I am sure Vance will put all of that into consideration when deciding when and where you will get your own team." She paused, still looking at him intensely. "And when that happens, I will be there with you. You do not need to doubt that."
He sighed. "I know."
She studied him for a long minute before nodding, sure that he believed his words. "We should go to bed," she said. "You looked worn down." He smiled slightly but didn't bother correcting her as he allowed her to lead him from the study.
Upstairs in the guestroom, Tony helped Ziva out of her dress before they both collapsed into bed, all too aware that the next day would be beginning in a few shorts hours. Before falling asleep, Ziva curled up next to Tony, resting her head on his shoulder. He fisted his hand in her hair, tilting her head up to kiss her, long and deep. "I love you, you know," he murmured as they separated.
"I know," she replied. He chuckled as she returned her head to his shoulder, and seconds later, they had both fallen into exhausted slumber.
---
Probably in all the years that they had known each other, and definitely in the two years they were sleeping together, Tony had never gotten out of bed before Ziva, and a few hours after they collapsed into bed after questioning Zajac was no exception. "I am going for a run," she announced, instantly alert seconds after waking. He groaned.
"We just went to bed," he turned over in the bed to check the digital alarm clock on the nightstand, "three hours ago. Stay in bed."
She kissed him lightly before climbing out of the king-sized bed. "You do not have to join me."
He groaned again, tossing off the covers dramatically. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled. Knowing it would probably still be cold out there, he tossed the long-sleeved red Ohio State shirt he got on his most trip back to Columbus—going to a basketball game with Ziva a few months before—over his running pants before heading out.
They did an easy four miles through the 'neighborhood' before returning to the estate, joking lightly between the two of them about the most ridiculous outfits they saw at the party the evening before. They both kicked off their shoes just inside the back door before Tony playfully tugged at the zipper of Ziva's bright yellow windbreaker. "I can take off my own jacket, Tony," she protested with a laugh.
"I know," he replied, grinning. "But this is much more fun." He kissed her lightly as he pulled the slightly damp fabric off her shoulders. "Do you want breakfast?" She nodded as she followed him toward the kitchen.
Alessandro looked up from his morning newspaper as they entered, and his bland expression quickly darkened. He slowly folded the paper with purposeful movements that Tony recognized from his childhood, the 'You know I'm angry with you and I'm drawing it out' behavior. He raised his eyebrows, trying to figure out what exactly it was that he had done to leave his father in this mood. "Perhaps you two would like to explain to me why three large bodyguards spent two hours last night trying to find one of my guests," he said coldly.
Tony shrugged, trying not to let his father's anger get to him the way it always did as he was growing up. "Perhaps you'd like to explain why you're inviting arms dealers supporting terrorists to your party," he replied calmly. His father glowered before rising himself to his full height—two inches shorter than his son.
"I should have seen this coming," he said with a glare. "Only you could manage to do something so disrespectful."
And that was it for Tony. He slammed his hand down on the counter, hard enough to make Ziva flinch at how painful it must have been. "You want to do this now?" he asked angrily, his tone almost mocking, his head shaking slowly back and forth. "Okay, Dad, let's have it. After almost forty years of disappointing you, I bet you have a lot saved up, so go ahead and give it to me. I'm ready."
