AN: I found an old USB stick with old fics. I figured they could be uploaded. None of them will be finished. This is my last update.
LXX. Never is an Awfully Long Time.
"No. He is not coming in to my house."
"Good to see you, too, Ziva."
"Get out," she growled from behind Tony, Adabelle on her hip.
"I cannot get much further out than I already am," Eli made a show of indicating the doorstep from which he was two steps back from.
"You can get off my steps."
"Ziva, I do not know what I have done wrong. I did not know what Malachi would do. I figured he would take you home to Israel, I figured he would bring you to me. I did not realise that he would hurt you, or that he had no intention of bringing you home to me."
"America is my home. And that is not why I never want to see you again."
"Then what?"
"If you do not know, then you do not deserve to know." She turned her face away, pressing her forehead against Ada's and nuzzling her daughter's nose. "I am done with this conversation," she sighed, walking away.
Tony shrugged apologetically. It was the forth day in a row they had lived this conversation. "Try again tomorrow."
"It would be easier if you just told me what it is I did wrong."
"You think I'm stupid enough to do that? She'd skin me alive. Besides, you assume I actually know."
"You don't?" Eli quirked and eyebrow, disbelieving.
"I have an idea of what it might be, but I do not know. And…I think you have to work it out yourself. Sorry."
Ziva's father sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Same time tomorrow, DiNozzo?"
"Same time tomorrow." Tony nodded, closing the door on his father in law and heading through to the living room to find Ziva sat on the floor, her knees bent as she leant against the sofa, with Ada propped against them and Bod on the floor next to her, grinning up at her. "He's really trying, you know."
"Not hard enough."
"And how hard should he be trying?"
"How hard would you try?"
He felt himself getting lost in a labyrinth of questions that would only end in tears as he slid himself down next to her, mirroring Ziva's position and picking Bod up. "I would turn up at your house every day begging to be let in so I could explain."
She should have booked an appointment. She should not have snuck past the orderly at the front desk. She should have knocked. She should not have come in the first place. But she was there now, standing in the doorway of the office. "Dr Sinclair?"
"Ziva?"
"You remember me? I did not expect that."
"What kind of a doctor would I be if I forgot all my patients, even if those patients are not overly fond of me?" The kind smile that was always on the doctor's face was as warm as ever. "You do not have an appointment. That either suggests that it is urgent or that you do not want anybody knowing you are here. Which one is it?"
"Both, maybe," she shrugged.
"I have an appointment in an hour, but we can talk until then if you want?" She waited for Ziva to nod before she extended her hand out to an armchair. "It's been a while. Last time I saw you, you were having problems with morning sickness and nightmares."
"No more morning sickness anymore," Ziva shrugged again as she walked cautiously over to the armchair and sank down slowly. "Adabelle and Ichabod."
"How are they?"
"Perfect. I do not deserve them."
The doctor studied her as she bowed her head. "Last time we spoke, you said you did not deserve your partner, Tony. I tried to convince you that you were worth more than you gave yourself credit for. Do you remember?"
"Yes."
"And do you believe me yet?"
"No."
A change of tactic was in order. "What about your nightmares?" There was a moment's silence. "Do you want to tell me about them?"
"Not particularly," she shook her head.
The doctor sighed. "If you are not going to talk, I cannot help."
"Tony…he is scared to touch me. He is treading on eggs around me, like I will break if he says or does anything, and I do not know how to tell him that I am okay."
"And you thought I would be able to help?"
"I did not know who else to go to. Can you help me?"
The doctor sighed. "I'll tell you what. If you go down to the cafeteria and get a drink whilst you wait for me, I will see what I can do to help you with Tony after this appointment I have, but you have to tell me about one nightmare… and what happened to your eye – foundation may mask colour, but it does not mask swelling."
The temptation to protest nearly won out, but just as she was opening her mouth reason stopped her. "Thank you."
"I won't be long."
It took Ziva an hour and fifteen minutes to recount every detail of what had happened. Everything from her and Malachi's history to Tony being shot to Ada's hearing right up until her father shooting Malachi. Dr Sinclair was the only person other than herself who knew about every single minute of her five weeks in Mexico. She was the only person who knew about everything that had transpired over the past months. And through it all she had remained stoic, as if reading from a case file. No tears shed, no emotions shown.
"How much does Tony know?"
"Everything of relevance. That Malachi was not afraid to use power and violence to get what he wanted. I think he has filled in the gaps pretty well."
The doctor nodded, taking a sip of overly sweet coffee from a disposable cup. "Ziva, to be brutally honest, if I were Tony I think I would be treading on eggshells around you. He is probably concerned that you could just leave again, and he is probably uncertain of what actually happened to you and so he doesn't want to do anything that is going to hurt or upset you. And on top of all that, he's probably worried that because you've not told him everything there is something terrible that happened, which it did, but his imagination is filling in that gap, and his imagination is probably torturing him with terrible images," she sighed. "As much as it hurts, and as much as you do not want to have to, I think you have to tell him everything. You need to talk about what happened. Because although you mentioned wanting to forget about it, forgetting about it won't help. Forgetting about it only leaves it bottled up under the surface, boiling away until the pressure gets too much and it explodes. You cook, don't you?"
"Well, only occasionally, and not particularly well."
"Not what Tony said all those months ago. I want you to imagine that you have a saucepan on the hob, and the lid is on, but the holes on the lid are blocked. What happens next?"
"Tony ends up ordering pizza."
She gave a small chuckle. "You are like that saucepan and talking to Tony will unblock the air holes. These past few months will always be there, but talking about them will help. It's not going to get better overnight. There's no 24-hour cure. But I think the longer you leave it, the harder it will become to talk about it."
"But, what if, when I tell him everything, he decides that he does not…I do not know, does not want me anymore?" She looked down and picked at her fingernails.
Sinclair studied her for a moment. "I did not spend a lot of time talking to Tony, but from what I gathered last time we met, I don't think he'd do that. I think he loves you too much."