AN:
1. To the guest reviewer for the last chapter, thank you for reviewing and your raised an interesting point in relation to Tony being shows as "rejected" which was not my intent. In relation to your point of saying it didn't happen on the show… we saw the moment Gibbs walked out and then the next episode showed Tony having lead the team for four months. We don't know what happened in between during these four months and this is only my interpretation. I don't believe the team would have gone from Gibbs (their leader) to Tony (their equal and team mate) without any teething issues and that is what I tried to show in my chapter. I tried to show there were were teething issued during the first month from both Tony's and the teams point of view. I did not intend it to be shown as hostile or that the team was being mean. Just that they missed Gibbs and were having difficulty adjusting to Tony as the leader. I would have discussed this directly but you can't respond to guest reviews the way you do with logged in readers.
2. OK, some of you are going to hate me and some of you are going to love me. I surprised myself with this chapter to be honest and have gone back and forth about whether I should even put it in here but I have. Let me know your thoughts … politely!
50 – Ziva David (Pt 2)
So as previously discussed, Ziva and I had been working on our relationship and were trying to find a better balance between our natural ingrained anti trust issues, and our need to become more trustful of each other in the field.
After our 'Reconciliation Dinner', as I like to call it, we found we were starting to really find our groove. We still teased each other and would call each other out when we had the chance, but it was no longer done with malice, but more out of a friendly rivalry.
It was when Gibbs unexpectedly left that Ziva and I moved another level in our 'friendship'. Ziva had invited me around to her place for a meal when Gibbs left and it wasn't until the following Tuesday that I decided to take up her offer. The truth was I hadn't been sleeping well and certainly hadn't been eating well and the thought of going home to another cold Pizza or some left over Chinese really didn't appeal to me. So I asked Ziva if her offer for a home cooked meal was still on the table and she agreed.
I wasn't really sure what to expect from Casa de Ziva. Would there be a wall display of knives and guns, or worse, a wall of disembodied heads mounted on mahogany backboards. What I found however, was a nice, neat single room apartment, tastefully decorated and very welcoming. Ziva has never ceased to amaze me no matter how long I have known her.
As soon as I walked in my stomach started to rumble, I don't know what she was cooking but that mouthwatering smell of garlic, exotic spices and most importantly meat was amazing.
While Ziva finished off cooking I had a look around. It is funny when you first walk into a work colleague's house and you see a different side of them. You see photos of beloved family or friends, see what books or movies they like, find out if they have pets or plants. I've always found that first introduction to someone's private life fascinating. I often wonder what people would think of me if I ever let them come over … on second thoughts best to not let that happen I think.
She came out with a glass of wine each and informed me that dinner would be about another twenty minutes. So we both sat on the couch and found we were both unable to think of anything to say, nervous in this unusual social situation.
"So, here we are." Lame DiNozzo!
"Yes, we are."
I looked around desperate to find something to discuss and my eyes lit on her piano. It was an upright piano against the far wall. "Do you play often?"
"Not as often as I would like, but I will play on occasion." She took a sip. "I am still happy to offer you lessons if you like."
"Lessons?"
"Yes, you told me that you have not played since the woman with the ruler hit you."
"Oh right, that." I remember having that conversation with her when we were trapped in the shipping container. I don't know why I told her I hadn't played since then; maybe because I didn't want her to know something so personal about me, or maybe because I didn't want to talk about the real reason I quit, my mother's death. Either way I didn't see the point in telling her the truth now, it would just lead to more awkward questions and conversations I wasn't willing to have. "I don't know, I think I would need to see how good a teacher you would be first. How about you play something for me and I will decide."
She laughed and surprised me by agreeing. She got up and walked over to her piano and started playing a song I hadn't heard before. She played well, not expertly but well, and while her playing was sweet her technique was flawed and amateur. I was just itching to get up and show her how it was supposed to be done, but of course someone who hasn't played since a child wouldn't do that now would they.
When she finished I clapped and she stood, turned to me and did a little curtsey. She had this really sweet smile on her face and actually looked happy and … peaceful. It was a side of her I had never seen before. It was like her iron curtain was down and I got a peek at the woman she could have been if she hadn't been trained to kill people as a living. I would have liked to have gotten to know this other woman. All of a sudden she seemed to realize her defenses were down and she stood up, blushed and said, "I must serve dinner now," and she dashed into the kitchen.
Ziva served dinner, a delicious meal of a Moroccan style lamb with roast vegetables and a chocolate mousse cake thing as dessert. It was the best meal I had eaten in months. "Wow, that was delicious. Can I come back again next week," I joked.
Once again that evening she surprised me, "If you wish. I enjoy cooking but find cooking for one … difficult. I am more than happy to feed you. At least I know you will have one decent meal a week."
"Ziva David, are you concerned about me?" I asked with a smirk.
She shrugged dismissively. "I like my partners to be healthy if they are going to have my back. I do not want you to come down with crickets."
"Crickets?"
"Yes, you know that disease you get when you do not eat right … affects your bones, makes them weak."
"Do you mean rickets?"
"Yes, that is it, rickets. I do not want you getting rickets."
"Well rickets usually only effects small children and I am pretty sure I am not at much of risk."
"Well you did catch the plague Tony, I would not dismiss anything when it comes to your health."
"Good point."
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly and I was home and in bed by 2300 with a very full stomach and little chance of developing rickets.
Next Tuesday saw me at Ziva's door again and once more, we had a pleasant evening with great food and entertaining conversations, and the following Tuesday was the same. We no longer even discussed if I was coming over, it was just expected. We only ever had to cancel three times and quite often we moved dinner to the next night that we could.
We discussed work, the cases we had been working on and the people we worked with.
As promised, Ziva gave me piano 'lessons'. I know it was deceitful and she would punish me for many years when I finally told her the truth, but when we sat side by side at the piano she became a different person. She became lighter. She would smile and laugh, you know that laugh where someone throws their head back, not the small chuckle she gave when at work. I liked that Ziva … I like her a lot.
It was about three and a half months into our regular get together that something unexpected happened. Ziva and I had always flirted at work but now that I was the boss we had cooled it as it could be deemed as inappropriate should anyone overhear us, and lets face it, gossip was a popular commodity at NCIS. When I was over her house we were able to flirt away to our hearts content and it was almost a way to expend all the pent up sexual tension that we both felt. We were both attractive and sexual people and it was only natural that we would be attracted to each other, and our flirting was the way of releasing this tension.
We had been working on a particularly difficult case this week, it involved the death of a young child, and we had all been tense and snipping at each other. I almost cancelled dinner that evening, not really in the mood for any more fights and worried that without the protection of the workplace and our new boss/employee dynamic, our little fight could escalate from professional to personal. But Ziva insisted on the dinner and suggested we ban any work talk for the night. Against my better judgement I agreed and turned up on her door as per normal with a bottle of wine and a few too many scotches already under my belt.
When Ziva answered the door she had obviously just hopped out of the shower and was only wearing a towel and her hair was wet, no makeup and she looked stunning.
I stared at her and she stared back and the next thing I know we are locked in a heart pumping embrace, our lips locked and our hands exploring each other. The sex was not soft and gentle and loving; it was hard and rough and nothing more than release on both of our parts… it was good but in a purely physical and non-emotional way.
We lay recovering beside each other on her lounge room floor, not even having made it to the bed, and neither of us touching or even really wanting to talk. My mind kept screaming 'what have you done, you're her boss!'. This was going to be a huge problem for us, I could tell. Our relationship may never recover.
"So are you ready to eat now?" She stood, wrapped her towel around her again and went into her bedroom to get dressed.
I hadn't even managed to get my pants all the way off so I tucked in my shirt and zipped up, and stood up not really knowing what was going on. "Ah, maybe I should go." I called out in the direction of her bedroom.
"Why?" she said as she came out now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. "Dinner is ready now and I have made too much for just me."
"Ah, don't you think we should … you know talk about what just happened."
"No. We had sex and now we eat. What is there to talk about?" She walked into the kitchen so I followed her.
"Oh, I don't know, the fact that we work together, the fact that I am your boss, the fact we just had sex on your lounge room floor!"
"Why are you American's so caught up in having to talk about sex? It happened, it is done, so what is there to talk about?"
I must admit I was a little taken aback about how blasé she was about the whole thing. "So, you are all OK with this whole thing. You don't have any questions, any issues that you think might come up?"
"No. It was sex, it was a physical release following a difficult week, nothing more. Why, do you expect it to be more than that? Because if you do then I am afraid…"
"No … no just sex is fine. It's just, you know, I'm your boss and if this got out then I could, you know, get fired!"
"Why would you get fired?"
"Because while there are no rules against co-workers dating, there sure as hell are some big ones about bosses and employees sleeping together. And I would rather shoot myself then go through another Sexual Harassment seminar this year."
"We are not dating and you can rest assured that I have no intention of telling anyone that we had sex nor would I expect it to happen again. You Americans place too much emphasis on sex and 'what it means' and 'how do we feel now'. At Mossad we are taught that sex is just another physical tool, such as hand-to-hand combat and knife throwing. It means nothing more. What we did was nothing more than someone who punches a wall in anger. It was a release."
Ziva had dished out our meal while we were talking and we now sat down to a dinner and the bottle of wine I bought. I thought about what Ziva had said. I knew I could separate sex from emotion, I did it all the time, but I certainly didn't think of sex as a tool. "May I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Have you ever had sex for fun?"
She looked up at me? "What do you mean 'for fun'?"
"You know, had sex that wasn't for an ulterior motive."
"Of course I have. I have been living here for nearly a year. I have been on dates. I did not sleep with those men for work."
"When did you sleep with them?"
"Some wanted sex on the first or second date, but it is customary to sleep with a man on the third date is it not?"
"So you would sleep with them because they wanted it or because it is expected."
She nodded her agreement.
"But have you ever slept with someone because you wanted to and not because it was expected of you? Have you ever actually enjoyed it?"
"If you are worried about your performance, then I can assured you it was more than satisfactory and … what is the term you American's use 'you got the job done' yes?"
"No, that is not what I was saying … but thank you."
"Toda."
"I mean, have you ever been emotionally involved with someone you have had sex with?"
"Are you asking if I have ever been in love?"
"I suppose I am, but not necessarily in love, just wanting to be with someone physically as an extension of how you feel about them, wanting to connect with someone both physically and emotionally simultaneously … it's hard to explain."
"I suppose then the answer is no. I have never been with anyone that I have had strong feelings for. There is no time for love or such in Mossad."
"You're not in Mossad now Ziva. You should give it a go. You might actually find you like it."
Ziva looked at me intently. "Have you?"
"Have I what?"
"Ever been in love?"
Wendy flashed before my eyes, I looked away from Ziva, still surprised at how much emotion thoughts of Wendy evoked in me, "I'm Tony DiNozzo, serial womanizer, what would I know about love."
She cocked an eyebrow at me, "Quite a bit based on our conversation. Want to tell me about it?"
"Nope, and on that note, it is late and I have had way too much to drink so I think I am going to head home and hope I can flag down another cab."
"I can drive you?"
"No, it's a nice night for a walk." I got up and grabbed my coat off the floor where it was still laying and Ziva walked me to the door.
"So we are all good with … this?" I asked, still not believing she could dismiss this so easily.
"Yes Tony, we are all good."
"OK then. I think maybe we should probably stop having these dinners. It might be misconstrued by people if they knew I was coming over every week."
"As you wish, but I would still like to give you piano lessons … you are just starting to get the hang of it."
I couldn't help but smile, "Yeah, about that. I actually know how to play… really well."
She stared at me open mouthed. I have finally managed to surprise Ziva David. It felt good.
"So I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."
I left before she could ask me all the questions I knew were running through her head. Talking about the piano would lead to talking about my mother, which would cause me to get stressed and upset and we could possibly end up entangled on her lounge room floor again finding release … not that that seemed such a bad idea.
I managed to flag down a cab and head home. I was going to miss our dinners but unbeknownst to me, by this time next week, Ziva would be wanted by the FBI, and Gibbs would be back.
