A/N: This chapter is set in late March 2020. So mentions the current pandemic. It is a look into Ziva's head, so features discussion about mental health. Look after yourselves friends.
Ziva took a deep breath, as she opened the door to the apartment building. The keys felt slippery in her gloved hands.
You are nearly home, she reminded herself as she looked up the staircase.
She moved the shopping bag on her shoulder and ignored the dull ache that resided there. Normally shopping for their little family was usually a two person operation, and usually every few days. Not once a week, and not passing store fronts with the roller doors down in the middle of the day.
Normal life felt so far away.
She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Her breath was warm on her mask.
The paper crinkled.
Ziva thought of Tali's mask, a bright pink thing with a butterfly pattern on the front. An attempt to diffuse the horror of the pandemic, among the littlest citizens. Before, the school had closed the playground had been filled with kids in reusable masks in bright colours.
When Tony had presented Tali with the mask, Ziva's mind had drifted to another apartment high in the sky, in a city on a Mediterranean coast.
Of her own mother sitting three boxes onto the table, then opening the smallest, to reveal a gas mask. That tiny gas mask was held up to the smallest member of the family, another Tali, the original Tali, the one should not keep safe, to check for size.
Later, Rivka David, exhausted by yet another threat, would give her daughters a sharpie and let them draw all over the boxes. Hoping the butterfly pictures would make this all go down easier.
A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.
The gulf war was raging. Iraq sent missiles addressed to Israel.
Ziva's father was away. Again.
Still his presence lingered.
All of our neighbours want us dead, Ziva.
Ziva adjusted the bag on her other shoulder. She told herself that she should have planned this better, should have made sure that the bags were evenly weighted. But, she had been in such a rush to leave.
The supermarket was eerie. The security guard was counting every occupant. A queue was forming outside. Ziva could only see the eyes of the people waiting, above their masks, to Ziva they looked angry.
Ziva's legs ached. It had been two hours since she left the apartment, as Tali logged into her daily zoom meeting for school. She had spent most of her morning queuing to get into the supermarket, showing off her shiny new ID, proof that she was un-dead. Once, she was out of the supermarket, she had walked briskly to the apartment, making the usually fifteen minute journey in ten.
She had to get home. She had to get back to them.
Her family.
She had fought so hard to come back to them.
Ziva stood in the foyer of the apartment building, and looked at the rickety elevator. The elevator she never took, because it put her on edge.
The panic was mostly tampered by the pills, properly prescribed this time, and the therapy sessions, but it would be lifelong affliction.
Ziva, her therapist had said in one of their early sessions, this is for life. It is like an old injury. Sometimes it will hurt, sometimes you will forget about it, but it will always be there. You must learn to live with it.
She had to learn to live first.
Ziva looked back at the stairs, and started to walk toward them. She heard a creak on the stairs. She looked up, and saw the masked face of one of the neighbours.
It took Ziva a second to recognise the neighbour, but once she saw his eyes, she knew he was the one with the bicycle, that was often kept in the lobby in bad weather. He was also the one with two girlfriends, one a bright blonde who dressed like a kindergarten teacher in bright colours, the other was a brunette who only wore black.
Ziva wondered idly which girlfriend he was in lock down with. If not both.
Ziva moved backward in the lobby, giving the man a wide berth.
Two meters apart. That was the rule. Tali could recite that rule.
"Bonjour," the man said, his dark hair longer than usual. He'd missed a haircut. So had Tony, but he wore it better. He had also refused Ziva's offer to cut his hair. No matter how good she was with a knife.
Ziva nodded at the man, and wondered if she was the first person the man had seen all week.
This lock down was scary enough, Ziva did not want to imagine doing it alone.
Her nights had been haunted, by visions of it all being taken away. Of Sahar and her vengeance still out there. Of Tony and Tali holed up in the apartment she now called home, without her.
The man slipped out the door of the building, a gloved hand on the door knob.
Ziva made her way back up the stairs. Her shoes echoed in the empty stairwell.
She stopped on the second floor, to place a small bag of groceries in front of their elderly neighbour Celine. The old woman with the colourful headscarves had been someone they finally met, when Senior was still with them, he talked to everyone. She and Senior had passed each other in the stairwell, and then Senior had bumped into her in the park, while she was with her little Pomeranian named Jacques. Tali had fallen in love with the tiny dog, and started a campaign to get a dog of her own. Ziva was ready to go to the animal shelter right that minute. Tony had to be the one to put hit foot down. Their landlord said no pets.
Celine had stories to tell of Paris from decades past. She knew all of Paris secrets, and Paris was a city that kept those secrets close to her breast. Her English was shaky, but with a lot of guesswork, and Ziva translating, she had been understood.
Celine had no family, and the chosen family she had built consisted of people in the same boat as her, and they were spread out over Paris, having been edged out of the city as gentrification swept in. Even though the David-DiNozzo's family's relationship with Celine consisted of that one Spring afternoon and the odd wave in the hallway, as soon as the lockdown was announced, Ziva had visited and offered to pick up groceries and prescriptions.
Celine's hair was still growing back after a case of toxic cell division. She was at risk.
So was Tony.
Ziva and Tony had fought about who would be the nominated shopper for their household. Tony had wanted to be the person, Ziva knew it was in part, because he would get claustrophobic spending weeks upon weeks at home.
But, as Ducky had told them over a grainy video call, if Tony got this, it would not be good.
She had only just come back to him, she could not lose him.
Ziva placed the bag of groceries on the chair outside Celine's apartment, and knocked carefully on the door. Then she stepped back.
She was halfway down the hall before the door opened. Ziva turned back and saw Celine holding her dog, and picking up the groceries.
"Thank you," Celine croaked out in English. A grey curl peeking out from underneath a bright scarf.
Ziva wondered if that was the first word Celine had uttered in days.
There was so much loneliness in the world.
Ziva rushed up the final set of stairs, and down the hallway. Her arms ached, but so did her heart.
She wanted to be home. She wanted to be safe.
She knocked on the door, something that had been pre arranged with Tony, so that she touched as few surfaces as possible.
Tony opened it within seconds, he was wearing the same grey sweatpants he had been wearing all week, and his OSU shirt, also days old, had a fresh coffee stain on it.
Ziva planned to suggest they start wearing grown-up clothes during daylight hours.
"Good timing," Tony said, as he took one of the bags from her. He was wearing gloves too. "Munchkin is about to finish her zoom class, and it'd be nice to feed her something fresh."
Pandemic or not, it would be a mission to get the littlest member of the household to eat her vegetables.
Once upon a time, the two of them might not have negotiated with terrorists, but dinners with Tali involved lots of pleading and begging from her parents.
Tony held out his hand and took the other bag. The gloves reminded Ziva of crime scenes, and of working crime scenes together. Of cold days, and colder bodies.
"I got those cookies she likes," Ziva said as she pulled down her mask, and stepped into the apartment. "The store did not have them last time."
She kicked off her shoes, and put them next to Tali's sneakers that lit up when she jumped. Ziva pulled off her gloves and mask, then she threw them into the plastic bag.
She closed the door with her elbow, and listened as Tali's voice carried through the apartment from her closet sized room.
Her class met three mornings a week on zoom, and Tony and Ziva took turns checking in on her. Ziva enjoyed that 'chore' more than Tony. Ziva liked watching her daughter, just be. As if catching these tiny stolen moments could make up for what had been missed.
Ziva peaked into Tali's room, close enough to steal a glimpse, but far enough away to avoid distraction.
Tali's curls were messy from her bright pink headset, and she was looking at the screen as her teacher spoke.
Ziva smiled, and then moved across the living room to the kitchen. Tony was unpacking the bags, and finding inventive places for things. He had stocked up before lockdown. There were tins stored in the space between the top of the kitchen cabinet and ceiling.
"We need a project for this afternoon," Tony announced as Ziva moved into the kitchen, and stood at the sink. "A good one."
She placed her hands under the tap, Tony leaned over, squirted some soap on Ziva's hands and turned on the tap.
Ziva ran her hands under the water and rubbed them together. The skin was dry, thanks to her liberal application of hand sanitizer in recent weeks.
"Was she wobbly this morning?" Ziva asked.
Tony moved to the fridge, and started putting the vegetables away. Ziva had over brought the vegetables, but she had grown tired of frozen vegetables. Even if Tony had assured her that they were exactly the same nutritionally.
Ziva liked fresh vegetables, she liked the preparation that went into them. She did not get to use her knife skills for much else.
"Yeah," Tony said. "She misses her friends, and wanted to go out with you."
Ziva frowned, and rubbed her hands together again. The soap foamed. Her fingers ached.
Their whole lives now revolved around keeping Tali occupied and distracted. Ziva knew they were in a lucky potion, this lockdown had caused no economic hardship, nor were they trying to balance childcare with working from home.
But, it was exhausting.
And, the distractions that worked well for Tali, did not work as well on her parents.
She and Tony played to their strengths. Tony did the fun and loud activities. He had been the MC for Tali's fashion show, where she emptied the dress up box. He organised for Tali's soft toys to sit on the couch and watch her practice her dance, because she missed dance class.
Ziva was better at the quieter activities. Ziva had been the one who sat at the table, as Tali did her crafts. Ziva had found release in twisting pipe cleaners. Ziva had been the one who 'helped' Tali bake cookies. Guiding Tali as they pressed the cookie cutter into the dough, would be one of Ziva's favourite memories.
They tried to Skype with Senior every day after dinner.
They tried to keep movies for weekends only.
They were better at keeping in touch with Senior, than limiting movies.
"If she knew what being outside was really like," Ziva said her voice cracking, as she washed her hands again. "She would be quite happy to stay inside."
Tony closed the fridge door, and moved toward her.
"That's way more than thirty seconds," he said, as he shut off the water. He wore an expression of concern, one Ziva often saw in relation to her. "You'll hurt yourself."
Tony reached for a towel, and patted her hands dry.
"Sorry," she said as she looked down at her hands. "I just-."
She wanted to make sure she was clean. That she did not bring anything back to them.
She always believed in the purification of water. Perhaps because she had grown up near the sea. Perhaps because of the mikvah.
In the weeks, after she had come back from Somalia, she had spent hours in the shower. Feeling her skin burn, and her hands become prune like. But, the dirt from that place, would not be washed away.
"Ziva," he said softly. "Are you okay?"
Ziva frowned. She opened her mouth, ready to parrot the line she always said in these situations.
I am fine.
But, she was not fine, and had not been all the other times she had said it.
"You haven't been sleeping well," he said softly.
That was the cruelest part of this. She was exhausted, but spent her nights tossing and turning.
Her nightmares were back. Sahar and Saleem in the same dusty cell taunting her.
You cannot keep them safe.
Ziva sucked in a deep breath.
No secrets. No lies. That had been the promise she had made to him, and to herself, when he opened the door to the apartment, and let her in to his and Tali's lives.
"No," she finally admitted. "I think this is getting to me."
"It's been a tough few weeks," he said, as he picked off the gloves from his hands, and threw them in a bin.
He then placed his hand on her shoulder.
Ziva took in a breath and let it out slowly. The weight of her anxiety made her chest ache.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively.
He could be so careful with her, like she was made of glass.
She had never known someone to be careful with her. Except maybe her own mother, but Ziva knew what it was like to love as a mother, how primitive it was. How like the urge to push, the mother had no choice, the body just did it.
Tony loving her, even after everything, was a choice.
"I thought going out would help me feel better," she said softly. Going out for a walk and some fresh air, was usually a remedy to a mental funk. "But, it made me feel worse. I had a moment when I was in the queue at the supermarket."
A moment of panic. A moment of pure fear.
The police were walking up and down, keeping the crowd in order. Two middle aged ladies were catching up, shouting at each other from two meters apart. Through their masks they shared stories of the teenage children, and then turned to the current situation.
One of the women could recite the number of cases and deaths, like a public health official, and Ziva had wished her French was not so good.
The panic built up. Slowly, like a pot on the boil.
Even when the women's conversations turned to one of their ex-husbands who was enjoying lockdown with his younger girlfriend, the panic remained.
Ziva thought of Senior, alone in his apartment.
Ziva thought of Tony and Tali, sitting safely in their apartment. What if she brought this back to them?
Ziva thought of the people on the outskirts of Paris. Of the Senegalese immigrants packed ten to room, and going out of their essential jobs, not knowing what they might bring back. While, at the same time the mega rich had decamped to their summer homes on the coast. She thought of the unfairness in the world. The women in the queue talked about this pandemic causing a bigger divide between rich and poor.
She had already caused so much suffering. She had borne witness to so much pain.
The mask had hidden the reddening of her cheeks. Ziva took in a deep breath, and let it out. Feeling the warmth of her breath.
She reminded herself about the crate of hand sanitizer, Tony had bought just before the panic buying started.
She reminded herself that they checked in on Senior at least twice a day.
She reminded herself that despite all the pain she had caused her family, by some miracle, they forgave her. She still had a chance to make this up to them.
Slowly, her breathing became less rushed. Her heartbeat calmed.
"You had a panic attack?" Tony asked, his face wearing obvious concern.
"Not exactly," Ziva said delicately. "It was an almost panic attack. I stopped it, before it became a panic attack."
It was a testament to how far she had come.
Tony ran his hand over his face. Ziva studied his stubble, and tried to remember the last time he shaved.
He was letting himself go.
"We can call the authorities," he offered. "We could make me the designated shopper."
Ziva shook her head.
"No," she said firmly. "If you get this, it could be very bad."
If he was the one going outside, waiting in the queues, if would no salve for her anxiety. Instead she would spend the morning pacing the apartment and riddled with panic.
"You know Ducky said that there are no cases of people who survived the plague getting this," he said.
Ziva thought of Ducky again. He was at risk too. And, so far away.
"Because there are so few cases of people surviving the plague," Ziva declared. "I am okay. Today was just a bad day."
Tony sighed.
"What do you need from me?" he asked. "To help."
This was him, always trying to make things better. Always wanting to fix things.
She loved him for it, but worried for him. Like Sisyphus he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"I could take Tali this afternoon," he offered before Ziva could answer his question. "Let you have some quiet time."
Ziva shook her head. She did not need to get any deeper into her head. She needed distraction. She needed to see Tali laugh, as they danced or feel her close as they cooked food together.
"I won't check the news in front of you," he offered.
"I think we both need to avoid the news," she said. "Thank you for wanting to help, but the panic is passing. I feel better."
Ziva leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned into the hug.
"Are you okay?" Ziva asked.
"I'm okay," he said. "Solid six out of ten."
Ziva ran her hand over his face, feeling the almost week old stubble.
"Really?" she asked.
The farmhouse came back to her. The last time she could remember Tony looking like this.
"I get the message," he said, with a chuckle. "You prefer me, clean shaven."
Ziva was close enough to feel the laugh roll through him.
"I can help you shave, if you like," Ziva purred.
Tony shook his head, but smiled. It was so sweet. The light at the end of the tunnel.
"Have you given McGoatee your opinion about facial hair?" he asked.
Ziva shook her head.
"I do not kiss Tim," she said, as she rubbed his stubble. "And, Tim does not do that other thing to me."
Ziva looked around Tony, expecting Tali to appear, as she always seemed too, when things were getting steamy.
There was no sign of her.
Tony chuckled.
"I hope not," he muttered. "You know if you could be quieter, we might be able to do that more during this lockdown."
Ziva felt a shiver go up her back.
Before the lockdown, she had rather enjoyed her and Tony's lazy mornings in bed. Their time together was different now. It did not have the air of scandal that the summer Gibbs was away did. It was not the longing love making of that afternoon in Israel.
It was the happy relationship sex. It ebbed and flowed.
"It's about time we got used to doing that with a kid in a house," he said.
Most couples managed to work out a post-baby rhythm in the early months, when said child was a gurgling infant, not an almost six year old who liked to visit her parents in their room.
For them, parenthood was on a different timeline. Some things sped up. Some things heartbreakingly slow.
"If you shave," she purred, leaning right into him.
"If you insist, Milady," he said.
"Maybe, it will help me sleep," she said.
She had never been a good sleeper. Sleep made her vulnerable, and when she was vulnerable the past came back to haunt her.
"I'm going to try not to be hurt that you want to use me as a sleep aid," he said with a smirk on his face.
"You know what I mean," she said.
He nodded slowly.
"I'm having crazy dreams too," he said. "Apparently, it's a thing."
Ziva felt her heart sink. She had not noticed Tony's suffering.
The panic made her so selfish.
And, she had been selfish for so long.
"When?" she asked.
"They're not nightmares or anything," he said, with a shrug. "Just weird dreams. Like, I dreamed I was in New York for some reason, and you and Tali were in Paris. I couldn't get in touch with you, so I sent a video message to Gibbs. I think it's just my brain trying to make sense of everything."
Ziva felt a pang in her gut.
She could imagine them being separated for this, so easily.
"That is what keeps me up," Ziva said. "I keep thinking about what this would be like, if I had not been able to come back. Or if Sahar, had just been a front for another monster."
Tony sucked in a breath.
"I don't even want to think about that," he said. "It's bad enough worrying about whether this is going to turn into a 28 Days Later situation. I don't need that as well."
"I think about it a lot," Ziva admitted. "And, when I am not thinking about that, I am worrying about how this is all affecting Tali. It is only March and so much has changed in her life this year."
"She's fine," he said, as he turned to look toward Tali's bedroom. "When all this is over, the school and all the other grown up's are gonna be making sure the kids are okay. When she's old and grey she'll be telling her grandkids what it was like to grow up during lockdown, just like Dad does with World War Two."
Ziva admired his optimism. How he could envision future, some days it felt like she was struggling to keep afloat. It would be so easy to give up, and let the tide take her.
"And, I worry about you," she said tentatively.
Tony turned back to her.
"Me?" he uttered pointing to himself.
"Yes," Ziva said. "You are not a housebody-"
"Homebody," he corrected, interrupting her. "You've reverted, you know. Undone all my hard work."
"Whatever," she said. "I was just saying you like to be out in the world. You need to be around people."
"I'm fine," he said, as he ran his hand up his face, and reached up for his hair. "I mean it sucks, and I'm worried about Dad, but it is what it is. As long as you and Tali are okay, I'm okay."
Ziva placed a hand on his chest.
"I feel better when I wear proper clothes," she said.
Tony looked down at his outfit.
"I'll give you that," he said. "Would you believe me if I told you, I was going to clean the bathroom?"
Their little fish made a lot of mess in the bathroom.
"Is the bathroom clean?" she asked.
"No," he said, flashing her his thousand watt grin. "But, I intended to clean the bathroom. Then I started a movie on the tablet, and it was just so nice to have some quiet time. We're all so on top of each other."
Their apartment barely contained them before the lockdown, but now it was almost impossible to carve out space.
"And, the movie I was watching had swears in it too," he declared with glee. "I had my headphones on, so I didn't disturb our little scholar. I barely heard her, even with only one headphone in. The bathroom is pretty sound proof."
"That is good to know," Ziva said, not too sure what to do with the new information.
"It'd probably be a good place to do your therapy sessions," he said. "The Wi-fi signal is pretty good."
She knew this would come back to bite her. They had this tense discussion when the lockdown started.
"I cancelled my sessions," Ziva said. "Until this is over. You know that."
"I know it's not ideal to do it on the commode," he said softly. "But, I can keep Tali occupied for an hour if you wanna do a check-in. Maybe, it's a good idea?"
"I do not doubt that," Ziva said.
"Let me know when you make an appointment," he said. "So, I've got time to plan something. Might have to break our no movies on weekdays rule."
"Thank you," she said, "But, it will not be necessary. I will be fine."
Tony frowned.
"I know you don't want Tali to overhear some of the stuff you talk about," he said, repeating the argument she had made to him when she told him that she had canceled the online sessions her therapist had organised. "I know you are still making sense of the last few years, and what you had to do, but I can't watch you suffer. We don't know how much longer this'll go on for."
The word suffer hung in the air, and the apartment suddenly felt claustrophobic.
She had caused so much suffering, so much hurt, and yet she had also suffered.
If you prick us do we not bleed.
Maybe, she had suffered because she had caused suffering, but no matter who cast the first stone, everyone had gotten hurt.
When she told Tony to leave her in Israel, she believed with all of her heart, that she deserved all of that pain. All of that hurt.
Now, she was starting to understand that nobody deserves to suffer, and to hurt.
She could not fix the world, with her hurt.
"Sometimes," she said softly. "I have to remind myself that it is not just me that is affected by all of this. I had gotten so used to being alone."
Tony looked down at her.
"You're not alone," he said.
He had said those words to her so many times, in multiple languages.
One day she would believe it.
"Let me know when you book the appointment," he said again. "I'll plan a Frozen sing-a-long event with Tali. Your therapist will have to deal with us belting out Let It Go."
Ziva felt a laugh rise through her, and tears prick her eyes. She could picture the scene so easily.
He laughed too.
"Do you have someone?" Ziva asked. "Who do you talk to?"
Tony pulled out his phone from his sweatpants and showed her a text chain.
"Abby and I text everyday," he said. "She's really upset that she's not gonna be able to come over for Easter. She says Hi by the way, and sends hugs."
Ziva felt an ache in her stomach. She thought of their friends, and what this lockdown meant for them.
Jimmy and Breena had sent their daughter to stay with Breena's mother, because both of them were essential workers. Delilah was trying to balance working from home, with toddler twins. Abby's clients had nowhere to shelter in place.
This panic made her so self-absorbed.
"I make an appointment after lunch," Ziva said. "I will ask for the first available appointment, and try to make it a regular thing."
Tony nodded, a slow nod. Ziva rubbed his cheek. The stubble scratched her hand.
"And, I'll shave," he said. "And, put on my big boy clothes tomorrow."
Ziva laughed.
They would be okay.
"Ima, Daddy," Tali called as she scampered into the living area. Ziva noticed then, that she was wearing a nice t-shirt and pajama pants. "I'm done with school now. What's for lunch?"
A/N: I don't own a thing.
Thank you all for being so patient with me readers. Thank you for all the kind reviews, tweets, and PMs. I'm still aiming for fortnightly updates, but hope to move back to weekly ones soon.
The next chapter will be lighter, and the chapters after that will be set post lockdown. Down the line we will have a chapter that discusses whether Tony and Ziva want to stay in Paris long term.
I live in a country that did not have as severe a lockdown as France, and other places. So I apologize if the situation presented here is not the most accurate.
Sending love out there to all of you, stay safe.