Good evening, my friends!
Thank you to quintawrites for pre-reading and to all the lovely reviewers who joined me in the expectation of the last chapter: Sarai, DS2010, didemi, helltowngirl61, Troubled-Angel-26, Loads of Randomness, Guest, Luv reading 67, NCISLover10, pj0491, JessicaRae95, and Fashionista-girl.
Now, this is a chapter that I have planned from the start (or near then). It has played through my head. Awhile ago, the last chapter would have been stricter, but I realized that Ziva needed gentleness a lot more. I'm so glad to see how my own relationship with this story has blossomed over the years and I have been so delighted to see how others have as well. (I'm going to have to do a highlight of the most meaningful comments at some point near the end in recognition of the wonderful readers who have journeyed with me and hopefully healed and learned emotionally a little bit too). Maybe I can do a closing author's note? I think each story is allowed one chapter that is completely an author's note.
I now give you this emotional treasure from the depths of my love for this fandom and for the power of healing. (Slightly dramatic start? Yes. But let me have this moment! It has been so long in coming!)
Enjoy, my reading friends!
...
Ziva took a deep breath and did either the bravest or the stupidest thing of the whole day. She got out of bed after Gibbs had firmly put her there and began to slowly steal back down the stairs. No Gibbs. He was down in his basement haven.
She hesitated at the door, feeling a little bit sick. It was not to late to still turn around and run right back to bed.
Or maybe it was.
...
Gibbs was breathing with the even strokes of his sanding, slowly experiencing the familiar sensation of the day's stress being repurposed into something productive before eventually draining out of his body. He was so focused on his work that he barely heard the little squeak on the step, but when there was a second one he turned around to see Ziva on the stairs.
What the... why can't this kid just have enough?!
"Ziva," he growled warningly, turning back to his boat. Maybe she would catch on and go back upstairs.
A third squeak. Now this was purposeful. Of all the kids, Ziva was already the most aware of what stairs were noisy and which were quiet. She wanted his attention, but he was drained. What else did he have to give? Spankings were clearly not reaching her today, and he was reluctant to ground her, knowing how arduous that had been previously. She was already supposed to be in bed, already partially restricted in what she could do. He was tired of disciplining only through punishments, but she was not open to the emotional side that, however uncomfortable for both of them, was necessary in a proper family relationship. If she continued like this, his hope of being able to truly help her was going to be unrealized, he recognized with a searing disappointment that ate at his soul. Maybe ... maybe he had been wrong.
He heard a few more less-than-silent steps on the stairs, then a hesitant pause. He stopped his sanding and, without turning to see her, grunted, "What, Ziva?"
...
Ziva gulped, feeling her heartbeat in her throat as she did so. Gibbs' impatient words were another reminder of how far she had pushed today. Maybe ... maybe she had pushed too far this time. Maybe she had finally reached the level that she had tried to convince herself that she wanted - a completely pissed off Gibbs who would no longer think she was a worthwhile project.
But ... maybe he was not there just yet. After all, every time she had clashed with him before now, he had won out. As much as she had fumed and fussed and stomped and sworn under her breath, she now realized that having that one person who was more powerful than she was actually provided comfort. Surely today could not be the first time that she would beat the mighty Gibbs. Not today when she needed that comfort so much. Not tonight when she was suddenly feeling this surge of emotional dependency.
So she pressed on in her quiet, seemingly-defiant invasion of his basement. There really was no defiance, as Gibbs would see if he looked at her. It had been a long time since Ziva felt so absolutely meek as she quietly skulked to a corner of the basement. Some old burlap sacks were placed on top of a couple boxes. She looked them over. There was no mold or mildew on them, and they could keep the cold of the unfinished floor from totally seeping through her body. Silently, repentantly, she spread them on the floor and laid down on the them.
If Gibbs had turned and asked her what she was doing, she could not have given an answer. It was beyond her conscious realm of understanding to explain how she had come to choose the hard ground in a dim basement in a vulnerable position near someone who she had just driven crazy all day, especially when compared to the fact that she could have formed some sort of revenge or escape plot while he was working down their without him knowing anything about it. All she knew was that tonight, she was broken. It was not because of the days of frustration and the many spanks her backside had received. It was not from the scoldings or warnings or reminders. It was because she had been broken long before today and those actions, because they were done in love, had finally removed the internal tape that she had been using to try to hold herself together. The last action of putting her to bed with unexpected love and undeserved patience had taken away the last piece. For now at least, her broken, battered soul was openly broken and battered.
I will... I will give Gibbs one chance. He said that I could come to him with problems. If he really means it, then maybe he will not hate me now. And if he does hate me, at least I ... at least then I can go. I will go tomorrow and never, ever see him again! The world is big and I can get moved somewhere else, or maybe just run away if I need to. I know that I can disappear ...
Gibbs moved away from the boat, gave her one tired-turned-to-imperceptible look, then turned and went up the stairs.
Away.
Alone.
Again.
Ziva could not help the tiny whimper that escape. For once she did not chastise herself for the weakness it belied. A cold sickness was sweeping over her body. She was upset and tired and frustrated and scared and hurting and done. This was all that she could do, all that she could be - at least right now. Maybe tomorrow she could rekindle that flame of deep-seated anger that so often was her motivating force, but for now she was incapable of it. She was here in the basement, literally and figuratively. After all her sassing and acting out all day, she knew how Gibbs was going to respond to her silent presence here. Punishment. Likely severe. She knew that his warning "Ziva" when he first heard her on the steps had been a demand to turn around and march right back up to where he had placed her. The following, "What, Ziva?" had been an order to give him the best darn explanation in the world as to why she was, yet again, disobeying him. But she had not listened to the demand or responded to the order. Now she could only sit here miserably in this cold corner of his chosen sanctuary, hoping that her seemingly outward defiance would not be punished more severely than she could handle without babbling like a shameful baby. She had no energy to be able to argue or debate or excuse or explain herself - not now that she had taken those steps toward him only to have him step away. She had finally done what they - Gibbs, Jenny, Ducky, Tony, Tim, and Abby - had all told her to do. She had trusted Gibbs to help her. And - ha! - how had he responded but by showing her that there had never been anything to trust in the first place.
She should have felt exultant. She should have felt vindicated.
She did not.
She heard his steps at the head of the stairs. A hesitation.
If only her hesitation before starting her slow descent had been enough to override her desire to be near Gibbs, she could have put this confrontation off until tomorrow. She would not have needed to discover tonight that she was right all along.
She had never hated being right so much.
Never.
Not. Ever.
But she was never so wrong.
Gibbs came down the stairs quietly, but it was not a pre-spanking grimness that kept him quiet, as Ziva's wide eyes recognized. In his arms he was carrying blankets and the quilt from her bed. Not the spoon to spank her again. Not a belt or paddle or something equally terrifying to spank ... or more, beat her. Not a bag to shove at her and demand that she get out before he called the cops on her as an unwelcome trespasser.
Her blankets, her quilt, her pillow.
He did not want her to be alone either.
And he was comforting her.
Silent tears began to slip down Ziva's face as Gibbs gently held out a hand. The human warmth of the touch was healing, as was his sacrificial gesture of getting down on his own old knees to roll out a sleeping mat before situating her blankets and quilt onto it. He placed the pillow at one end before getting up and turning to her. He did not comment on the tears. He only held out his arms and let her slowly melt against him as all the fatigue, all the distress, all the unfulfilled fears expressed in liquid form were absorbed into his shirt.
After a long minute - or perhaps three, or ten - Ziva finally moved backward, reluctant to leave the hold of security but no longer capable of standing on legs that were shaking now like willow leaves in the wind. Gibbs did not let go, instead helping to ease her down onto her private nest in the corner of their sanctuary. She had never felt so utterly safe.
Gibbs crouched next to her and looked directly into her eyes in a way that read her mind, heart, spirit, and soul.
"Like I've said and will keep saying, I love you, Ziver."
His voice hitched on her nickname, and he brusquely stood and turned back to his boat. His silence was no longer read as condemnation. His back was now a sign of protection rather than dislike or judgement.
She had not been stupid to trust him. In fact, it was the wisest choice of her troubled life. Maybe her body had been able to accept before her heart had that being here, close to him, was the safest place in the world that she could be tonight.
She rested her head against the pillow, then tiredly shifted when she came against a bump. Rolling over only succeeded in landing her head on a spot that was even more uncomfortable. She hesitated, then reached a hand inside the pillow case.
Peanut.
Yes, Gibbs had retrieved her teddy bear along with everything else. There was no way that he could not have seen the lump in the pillow case when gathering it along with all the rest. He was an investigator. She had no doubt that he had checked what she was hiding from him there. He had not left it behind. Instead, he had brought her the stuffed animal that had so often comforted her.
Unashamedly, she openly gathered Peanut into her arms as she rolled over on her side so that she could watch Gibbs, feel comforted by his voluntary presence in her life, while her body slowly relaxed.
Ziva took a few long shaky breaths as she watched him work. The repetitive, smoothing motions lulled her overwhelmed mind into rest, and her body obediently followed.
...
He checked on her one last time. It was almost 2:00 am, but after the adrenaline rush of finally experiencing genuine, uninhibited connection with Ziva, he had been unable to consider sleep before now. She was still there, curled up with her bear held safely under her chin. Dried tear tracts were visible on her cheeks but the rest of her expression was near-cherubic as he looked down on her with the fiercely protective and proud love for her that was now more engaged than ever.
It had been hard for her to come down here. He knew that.
But she did it anyway. Trusted me.
I love her so much it hurts to try to keep it from exploding out of me.
With one final look, Gibbs settled against the boat and drifted to sleep himself, knowing his girl was finally - finally - choosing trust rather than fear.
It had been a long day.
Though worth it.
...
Thank you for reading. It has been such an honour presenting this chapter to you. I look forward to continuing the ending chapters of this story in a couple weeks when I have moments to write. :) Please review and if you want to include a bit of extra feedback for me, please let me know two things:
1.) Is there anything that you think should *absolutely* be included in the final chapters of this story? (Yes, Jenny will be in the next chapter, for anyone who is .)
2.) Would you be interested in a sequel continuing the relationship between Gibbs and Ziva as she goes back to work and continues to work on her inner, emotional life?