Chapter 37
Tony watched Ziva work her way quietly through the room from his spot on the bed. They had been showed to a suite in a large mansion overlooking what was probably a private beach. From travel time, they were definitely in Cuba, but beyond that, they couldn't be sure.
No introductions were made, very little was spoken. They were told that someone would be meeting them in a couple of hours. Then, they were asked for their sizes as it concerned their clothing, an odd request.
"We did not give you time to pack, the least we can do is make you comfortable while you're here." Omar Haulia told them as he passed on their information to a uniform wearing member of the house staff.
That had been over an hour ago.
They were instructed to rest, neither was sure if they were actually supposed to stay in their room. If it was a form of captivity or if it was optional and they were free to roam the vast lush grounds outside their third floor window. They had decided not to risk a walk outside and instead surveyed their surroundings from the vantage point they had.
Ziva had certainly covered every square inch of their room, positioning several items for easy access, rearranging lamps, wall coverings, and the bar out of the closet after sliding the hangers to the ground. She was obviously noting the location of things they could use as weapons, or arranging items to be readily available for that purpose, but not visible to whoever may enter the room.
Ziva stood in the middle of the room as she stared blankly at the dresser along the far wall. He wondered if she was thinking about the handles. He wondered whether she was considering them for their tactical merits or with regard to the new scar on his face.
She jumped slightly when there was a soft knock on the door, but quickly covered it as he stood. He waved off her approach and opened the door himself. The man who had been sent away earlier presented him with two shopping bags.
In broken Eglish, heavily accented, the uniformed man informed them that their guest would be delayed for several hours and asked if they wanted some food before they turned in for the night, as they must be hungry and tired from their journey.
Tony was tempted to decline food, but looked to Ziva before answering. She shook her head and he replied, "No, thank you. We'll just call it a night."
Once the man had left, they dumped the bags over the surface of the bed and discovered a pair of flannel pajama pants for each of them, a couple of t-shirts, board shorts, jeans, and tank tops.
"How long do they think we're staying? This is at least two day's worth of clothes." She sounded flustered. He didn't like it.
"It will give us time to figure out our next move." He responded non-committally.
"Do not wear the jeans." She said as she gathered the items she would need for sleeping in.
He was confused and he let his eyebrow arch up to ask the question for him.
"The pajama pants and shorts have drawstrings. In the event we need to defend outselves, we can pull the strings to use as a ligature."
Her practicality when discussing the methods of killing someone in defense of themselves was an eye opener.
He had always thought she was at least partially joking when she made off hand references to what she could do with various objects. Seeing her move through the room and discover not less than twenty items they could use with deadly force if the need arouse had him feeling a hint of gratitude. If he had known she could find all this in a nearly empty room, he probably never would have kissed her that first time in his living room.
Thinking about his living room had him feeling a sudden wave of homesickness as he gathered items to move them to the empty dresser and get changed for bed. Once they had both changed into the comfortable pajamas, leaving the ties loose in the event they were needed without notice, he pulled her close to his chest under the comforting weight of the heavy quilt.
He felt her lips against his ear as she turned her face up, "They might be listening." She whispered, softly.
They fell silent for a long moment and she snuggled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Tony wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep.
"How?" he asked her, wondering exactly what kind of answer he expected to get with such a vague question. The context was far from the previous conversation topic, but the most prominent thing on his mind.
He was about to let it go or elaborate so she understood, when she responded, "I have been wondering that as well."
"We always used protection." He stating, trying to think over their time together, "Uh, except today in the shower." He added, feeling a little sheepish at the admission that they had both lost their senses so thoroughly that neither had thought of the consequences. "But that wouldn't explain it being six weeks for you."
"The kitchen." She responded simply, "The first time after. . ." and she stopped as if she couldn't go on.
She didn't need to continue. He knew what she was trying to say.
The first time after she had come back to him. The first time after the air had been cleared. The first time he had been able to breathe again without the painful reminder of what they had but would never know again.
Thinking back to the primal nature of their coupling that night, he was surprised that they hadn't realized it sooner. It was odd considering they had gone upstairs and started all over again in the bed and they had used protection that time.
Thinking about it, that should have triggered a moment of recognition in one or both of them, but he could remember not being able to think clearly that night.
It had been hell when he lost her, like his entire world exploded. That night had put him in a fog of emotion and he wasn't able to see anything except her. Blinded to anything but pleasing her repeatedly until she screamed for him to end the maddening pace he had set for them and begged him to fall with her.
"I'm sorry. I should have. . ." and this time he let his own voice fall away as he saw the hurt flash in her eyes. "No, stop. That's not what I'm saying."
"What are you saying then?" it was odd to hear her actually sound nervous.
"I'm not sorry about this, just the timing." The blank expression she had been trying to construct to mask what she was feeling began to fall back away. "I actually had a vision of you holding our little girl after she was born." His tone dropped, he hadn't meant to tell her that, but it was out there and he saw the tilt in her eyebrows.
"When did you have this little vision?" she asked, and he was relieved to hear the hint of humor in her voice.
"In the hospital, after we were nearly blown to bits." Quiet words, spoken and followed with no movement as she considered that perhaps she would think he planned all this, even though he hadn't, and she would use one of the couple dozen weapons she had found to dispense of him.
"You do not think it was just the drugs talking?" she was still obviously humored, so he let out the breath he wasn't aware he had been holding in anticipation of her lashing out.
He had to smile at that, "No." he said sincerely and graced her with a full smile, despite their situation, "Not anymore."
Her smile was a little sad and it broke his heart to see the concern in her eyes as she considered the precarious position they were in.
"Go to sleep, Motek." She finally said, "I am not yet tired and will stay up a while."
He understood what she was trying to say. One of them needed to be awake in case someone came for them in the night. "Wake me in a few hours if you want to talk or anything."
She leaned in and brushed her lips lightly across his eyelids, making them flutter closed. "I love you." She whispered, sounding as if her throat was constricted and he wondered if she was fighting tears.
His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he pulled her to him more completely. He wished for what had to be the hundredth time that day that they were at home right now.
He couldn't actually appreciate the full sense of wonder that should be rolling through him at this moment as it was inhibited by the bone chilling fear of not being able to protect them. He would kill to protect Ziva, but knowing she was carrying his child made him sick with worry.
How was she supposed to get the proper vitamins and nutrients? He shouldn't have said no about the food earlier. She probably needed to go to the doctor.
A sudden thought hit him and his eyes flew wide open, meeting Ziva's which were still focused on him from a few feet away. He must have had his concern blatantly written on his face because she instantly looked on him with worry and a questioning lift of her eyebrows, "The tranquilizer?" he finally choked out.
He immediately realized he should have kept his mouth shut as he saw the wave of concern overtake her delicate features. After a long moment she finally spoke, "We will see a doctor as soon as we get back."
It was the only answer she could give him, the only answer available to them at the moment, and it did little to reassure the worry in him.
They did not need to take shifts, as they were both kept awake with their thoughts for several hours, until footfalls approached from down the hall before there was a knock at their door.
xoxo
A/N: Sorry, it's a little shorter than usual and doesn't advance the plot any, but I have had the worst couple of days and need my characters to enjoy a little quiet.
My birthday was on the 28th, I turned 28 making it my golden birthday. I had to work all day, while two of my nieces had surgery to remove their tonsils and adenoids. Then my daughter woke me up in the middle of the night getting sick all over everything in the house, which I had to clean up. I got no sleep, and stayed home from work. Unfortunately, I didn't get to rest, relax, or write, because I got a call from my sister that one of my nieces had uncontrollable bleeding this morning and had to go back in for an emergency cauterization of the bleed in her throat. I hope things get better from here, because I don't know how much more I can take!
Thanks for reading. I will be back as soon as life and my muse let me roll forward.