A/N: This chapter is set before "Sandblast", several months after chapter 6. Things are going to get a little unhappy for our lovebirds, but have faith, this is just a bump in the road! Thus far, I've been trying to merely fill in the gaps between canon episodes (though obviously with a little extra romance and sex), but from here on out, things are slowly going to get more AU. I might not update at my usual rate this weekend because I'll have family in town—happy Thanksgiving to my American readers! Also, special shoutout to Diane LD, who left me the loveliest review yesterday that still has me smiling today!
"Oh, and Tony?"
Tony turns back to the director, one foot out of her office door. "Yes, ma'am?"
"This has to stay under wraps. It's classified. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that you can't tell anyone about it, not even Gibbs."
"Understood." Tony's voice is stiff, but he still gives Shepard a polite nod. Then, without waiting to be officially dismissed, he steps out and closes the door behind him. He leans against it for a moment, feeling tired, and only straightens up when he hears Cynthia, Jenny's assistant, clearing her throat. He'd forgotten that there's someone else in here, and he smiles awkwardly at the girl in question and heads out to the hall.
From his vantage point up by the railing, he can see the whole bullpen. He can see Gibbs directing McGee to pull something up on the big screen while Ziva gestures and speaks something that Tony can't hear but he's sure is insightful.
Ah, Ziva.
His new assignment will affect her, and it's killing him already. He thinks back on the meeting he's just left.
"Thanks for coming, Tony. Please, sit down." Director Shepard gives him a small smile and gestures to the chair across the desk from her own.
"Sure," he replies easily, and takes the offered seat. "What can I do for you, Director?"
Jenny evaluates him for a moment. "I have an assignment to offer you. You are free to turn it down, but you should know that you're my top man for the job."
Tony is surprised to hear this. "Me? Not Gibbs?"
Jenny suppresses a smile at the thought of Gibbs taking on this particular assignment, and she shakes her head. "No, not Gibbs. He's an excellent agent, but he… he wouldn't be right for this."
Tony nods thoughtfully. "Well, you've got my attention. What's the assignment?"
"Before I can read you in, I need to be very clear here. What we talk about does not leave this room, regardless of whether or not you're ready to accept the assignment."
"My lips are sealed," Tony assures his boss' boss, miming a lock being turned at the corner of his mouth.
This seems like a less-than-serious agreement to her terms, but Shepard nods anyway. "What can you tell me about La Grenouille?" she starts.
"Uh…" Tony has to think about it. "Not much, really. He's an arms dealer, right? French?"
"Yes. He's a major arms dealer, and he's caused this country a lot of grief during his active years. Actually, he's caused a lot of countries a lot of grief. We've tried to track him down and make him stand trial for his crimes, but he's slimy. Every time we think we have him nailed down, he slips out of our fingers again. He's been underground for a few years."
"And you know where he is now?" Tony guesses.
"Well, not exactly. I think I know how to draw him out, or at least how to learn some of his weaknesses."
"Oh, yeah?" Tony leans forward in his seat, interested.
"Yes." Jenny pauses one more time as if evaluating how he'll take what she's about to tell him. "And that's where you come in."
She pulls a file out of her desk drawer and from it, she brings out a photo of a young woman with lovely blue eyes. She passes it across the desk to Tony, who looks it over. "She's pretty," he remarks. "Who is she?"
"She's La Grenouille's daughter. Name's Jeanne Benoit."
"Jeaaaanne," Tony parrots, trying the name out. "Very French. Where exactly do I come in with this Jeanne woman?"
"I think she's our link to her father. From my intelligence, she's nothing like him, but they're relatively close. She lives here in Washington. She's a doctor."
Tony nods slowly. "She sounds great… but you're still not telling me what you want me to do."
Jenny smiles. "Have a little patience, DiNozzo. I'll get there." She leans forward to look at him squarely. "Are you dating anyone right now?"
Tony can see the wheels turning in the Director's head, but her question surprises him enough that it's momentarily pushed from his mind. "Um… dating anyone? Right now? Me?"
Jenny's face twitches as if she's trying not to laugh. "Yes, that's what I asked."
"Um." He feels a little shifty, but really, it's a fairly straightforward answer. He's not dating anyone. He's sleeping with Ziva, but they agreed months ago that they're not dating. Why, then, does he feel guilty answering Jenny? "No," he finishes finally. "I'm not."
"Good," decides Jenny firmly. "Then what I would like for you to do, Tony… is to get close to Jeanne Benoit. Gain her trust. See if she knows anything about her father's business. Keep track of her whereabouts, because even if she doesn't know anything, I can only assume her father will come to town to visit her eventually. We'll be there when that happens."
"You asked me about who I'm dating," Tony says slowly. "So when you say you want me to 'get close to her', you mean…" He trails off, waiting for Jenny to elaborate.
"You're a bright young man," she answers. "Use your imagination."
That's easy enough to do—it's very clear what Jenny's implying. She wants him to seduce this woman. While he's had a lot of success with women in his lifetime and the Tony of a year ago would have thoroughly enjoyed this particular challenge, the Tony of today thinks it feels a little… icky. What about the woman here? By Jenny's own admission, this Jeanne Benoit is innocent in the quest to get her father to pay for his crimes. Is it fair to get close to her and inevitably break her heart? He opens his mouth to ask Jenny about that when he thinks better of it and closes his mouth. She watches him patiently, waiting for him to make up his mind.
Another unwelcome thought pops into his head—what will Ziva think? She won't care, he tells himself. It's just sex between them. The issue, of course, is that he can't tell her about this, won't be able to explain that he's not distancing himself from her for selfish reasons.
"Well, what do you think?" Jenny interrupts gently after a few minutes of letting him deliberate. "Can you do it?"
"I… yes," he finds himself saying. "Yeah, I'll do it."
There's a large part of him that wonders why the hell he's saying yes, knowing he'll hurt some innocent woman… knowing he'll hurt Ziva. That's a big part of it, though, isn't it? He's afraid of how close he's gotten to Ziva, how much like a real relationship their friendship-with-benefits has become. Jenny's questions have forced him to think about it harder than he has yet—he's been avoiding it, intentionally or otherwise.
He's enough of a coward to want distance from it, so he says yes.
He goes about the rest of the workday a little subdued, but he does his best to enjoy it. He's certain that the conversation he needs to have with Ziva will change things, and he doesn't think it'll be for the best. He's already starting to regret saying yes to Jenny, but if the Director is asking for the task to be done, he knows it's something that has to be done. She's right, he's the guy to do it. Who else would—McGee? He's too soft-hearted and he'd never be able to go through with it. Gibbs? The idea is laughable. There are other NCIS agents, but Tony knows that Jenny trusts Gibbs' team above all others. It has to be him.
The day passes quickly, and if his team notices that something is amiss, they don't comment.
At the end of the day, he stops in front of Ziva's desk and sticks his hands in his pockets. "Can I come over tonight?" he asks softly.
She gives him a curious look because these days, they rarely ask so directly first, but she nods. "Of course."
He nods. "I'll be there around… mm, say eight or so?"
"That is alright with me." The welcoming little smile she gives him makes guilt churn in his gut, but he returns it convincingly enough.
"Right, see you then," he says and heads for the elevator, lost in thought. He knows that conversation was suspiciously and probably rudely short, but he can't help delaying the inevitable. He can't talk to her about this here, not with everyone around, and he wants things to stay the way they are for at least a few more hours.
He spends the time between getting home and leaving again working to tidy his already spotless apartment. He's just full of nervous energy, and he can't sit still. That should probably tell him something about what he's about to do, but he stubbornly shoves those thoughts aside until they're in a dusty corner of his mind and can be safely ignored.
Finally, it's time to head to Ziva's. He leaves his apartment with an anxious air, ready for this to be over with.
He's long since had a key to her apartment (and she has had one to his), but this evening, he doesn't use it. He knocks instead.
Ziva comes to the door dressed in pajamas. "Tony?" she asks in surprise. "Why did you not simply let yourself in?"
"Lost my key," he lies uncomfortably, and he passes her to come in.
"You would lose your legs if they were not attached," she observes mildly, following him further into the apartment.
"Head," he corrects, distracted. "You'd lose your head if it wasn't attached."
There's silence in reply to that, and after a moment, it's enough to shake him out of his preoccupation. He turns around to look at Ziva, who's watching him with some concern. "What?" he asks. They haven't even started the real conversation yet and she's already noticing the tension in his body and voice.
"Are you alright? You do not look entirely well."
"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…" he sighs. "We need to talk."
Ziva pauses and then nods, leading the way to the sofa. She sits on one end and rather than sitting next to her as he usually would, Tony settles himself on the opposite side. Ziva doesn't comment on that. Instead, she merely asks "what would you like to talk about?"
There's no easy way to do this, so Tony just jumps right in. "I think we should break off our—our agreement," he tells her quietly.
Ziva's expression goes blank, devoid of all emotion. He knows her so well by now, though, and he's well aware that Ziva has just given him a sure sign that she's feeling a lot. It's force of habit for her to shut down in the face of strong emotions. "I see." Her tone is professional, almost cold. "Why do you think that?"
"Because…" he's been thinking about this all day, trying to find the perfect excuse, the one Ziva won't be able to question but won't be hurt by, as well. Suddenly his mind is blank, though, and he stares at her, wide-eyed and mildly panicky.
"Because?" she prompts. She crosses her arms, something she does to protect herself, to make herself look stronger and angrier when she's feeling hurt. He's seen it before, caused it before, but this time is different.
A reason that works because it's true pops into his head, and he's relieved to have something to tell her. "Because it's starting to feel too much like a relationship."
He was not anticipating the flash of hurt that crosses Ziva's face, though. "I see," she repeats.
He can't help himself—he starts babbling to try to make this better, to try to make it easier. "We talked about this, you know? Who knows how long Shepard will want a Mossad in the office! Even if she keeps the position open for a long time, she might not keep you here! She could send you back to Israel and bring someone else in! This is all temporary."
"Send me back to Israel?" Ziva's expression turns hard, calculating. "What do you know that I do not?"
Oh, god, he's already messed this up, hasn't he? "Nothing," he hastens to explain. "That was just a what-if. I swear, you're not being sent back to Israel. Or if you are, I don't know about it. That's not to say it won't ever happen, because Jenny doesn't consult me on things like—I mean, Director Shepard doesn't talk to me about decisions before she makes him. That would be Gibbs, Gibbs would know." By sheer force of will, he makes himself shut up, and he stares helplessly at Ziva.
Her face has gotten angrier, though—somehow that's an emotion she never has trouble expressing. "Tony," she snaps. "Stop lying to me."
"Lying?" he repeats, his heart sinking. He'd been hoping that they were nearly to the end of this awful conversation.
"Yes. You wish to break down with me, but you are lying about why. Do you honestly believe I do not know your tells by now?"
"I think you mean break up—"
"Do not correct me right now if you value your life at all!" Ziva snarls, and Tony gulps. "Now tell me the truth!"
"I met someone!" he blurts. "I didn't want to hurt you by telling you, but that's what happened." Though he hasn't met the subject of his assignment yet, the basics of what he's said are true enough. This is why he's 'breaking up' with Ziva.
She takes a deep breath that doesn't seem to support her at all, or maybe that's him. His lungs do seem to be having trouble filling efficiently. There are several beats of painful silence; Ziva is trying to process what she's hearing, and Tony is trying not to feel like he's gone down a one-way path that'll tear his best friend's heart apart.
"Who is it?" Ziva ultimately asks. She's quiet again, and Tony can't help but think that her posture has changed—she's no longer crossing her arms as a show of anger. Now she's hugging herself.
"You… ah, you don't know her."
"When did you meet her?"
"It was a week or two ago." Better to keep this vague because the more he goes into detail, the more he will be lying.
"And you are just now telling me?" Her face grows angry again, but just for a moment. She's too exhausted to hold on to the rage that she would rather hide in. "Tony, have you been sleeping with her and with me at the same time!?"
"No! No, of course not. I wouldn't do that to you." He's awkwardly certain that they're both thinking the same thing—he'd do this to her, but not that. Where are his lines really drawn? "That's why I wanted to tell you now, before anything happened. Once I met her, I don't know, I… things changed. It just feels right. I didn't want to lead you on, but I need to pursue something with her. I think she could be the one." He's inventing wildly as he speaks, but the words are flowing easily… maybe because he could see them applying to Ziva herself, and that scares the hell out of him. This faceless woman he has to target seems a much smaller threat than his own feelings.
Ziva nods sharply, and much to Tony's horror, he can see her lower lip trembling. She isn't one to cry, especially not in front of someone else, and it kills him to know that he's the one who did this to her.
He can't take it anymore. He can't look at her pain without feeling some of his own, so he abruptly gets to his feet. Ziva doesn't move.
"That's all I wanted to talk about," he says uncomfortably. "I just wanted you to know that-"
"Get out," Ziva breathes as if she doesn't hear him at all.
"I-what?" He's thrown by the sudden change.
"I said GET OUT!"
He watches, wide-eyed, as her hand twitches towards the gun he knows she keeps under the couch cushion. She won't really shoot him, but the fact that he's pissed her off so badly that she feels she needs a gun in hand is not a good sign. He nods. "I'm sorry, Ziva," he says as he heads for the door.
He's got it open and he's nearly out when he hears Ziva murmur one last thing, almost to herself. "I could have fallen in love with you."
Overwhelmed, Tony slams the door shut behind him, leaving a lonely Ziva in his wake.
She stays still as a bird on her sofa for a long time after his departure, feeling a little numb. Early on in their arrangement, she'd wondered how she would feel if it ended, and she was always able to assure herself that she'd be fine. Maybe six months ago, she would have been, but now, this feels like a blow from which she cannot recover.
If it was just the end of their sexual relationship, that would be one thing… Tony is a wonderful lover and Ziva has really enjoyed getting to know that side of him, but at the end of the day, she could have great sex with a lot of people.
What's really upsetting her is that she knows they can't just keep their friendship and ditch the sex. Tony's right, it really has been like a long-term relationship. They spend three or four evenings together most weeks, often not having sex at all. They go see movies a lot (Tony's determined to bring her movie trivia knowledge up to a level that he deems minimally acceptable), they go out to eat, or they go to events. A couple of times, they've even done special, seasonal things like ice skating or going to the fair.
It leaves Ziva wondering how she spent her time before Tony.
She knows this is going to change things. Even if she can get past the jealousy that she already feels stirring at the thought of Tony so easily replacing her with a faceless woman, something has been broken or lost between them. She had not even known it, but she had trusted him with her heart, something she's entrusted to very few people.
The pain she's feeling now tells her that her emotions run deeper than she ever intended to let them. She has real feelings for Tony, and it's too late. She wonders if things might have been different if she'd told him back before he met the new woman.
She's been keeping track of things since the beginning, her analytical mind watching for patterns. They've slept together close to a hundred times now, and thinking back on those patterns, her new feelings are reinforced. When all of this first started and everything was new and exciting, they branched out more and allowed their animal sides to occasionally take over. Sex against her front door, sex on his kitchen counter, car sex, phone sex, every position and every place they could think of. Eventually, they settled into more of a routine, though, and though there was less variety, they were much more efficient at pleasuring one another in the ways that felt best. They got to know one another so well that often, words weren't required. Ziva thinks back on all of the times she would have to convince herself after sex that bordered on lovemaking that these weren't true romantic feelings making her heart race and her knees weak. These were hormones, or maybe normal non-committed friends-with-benefits thoughts and feelings, nothing really romantic about them.
She sees now just how delusional she has been. She's really been falling for Tony for months now.
Tony spends a lot of the evening driving aimlessly around. He leaves Washington and drives perilously quickly on shoddy Maryland backroads, feeling angry at the world and angry at himself.
Ziva's pain is something that he had anticipated, much as he had regretted that it was necessary to cause.
He had not anticipated his own.
Now, as he speeds down dusty dirt roads and has to swerve to avoid a deer, he realizes just how shortsighted he had been. How could this ever be painless for him? He has spent his whole life forming only meaningless and short-lived attachments to women since losing his mother—it's inadvisable to feel too much for women who will leave him eventually anyway. His MO has become leaving first, protecting his heart. One-night stands don't involve any pain, but breakups sure as hell do. He knows which method he prefers.
Somehow, though, he's messed it up this time. He's let himself get attached, let himself grow dependent on another person. Oh, it was lovely while it lasted—the last nine months or so that he has spent with Ziva have been some of the best of his life. Now, though? He wants to take it all back, if only to stop the pain in his chest.
Facing the loss of what he has enjoyed with her, it occurs to him why she accused him of lying… it's because he was. It has started to feel like a relationship, but the lie is that it bothers him. The truth is, it doesn't. He'd normally run from this sort of thing, and maybe that's what he's doing, but a part of him that's growing louder every minute tells him that it's time to stop running.
Making a decision, he pulls his car around in a u-turn and heads to Gibbs' house. He's driven so far that it takes him more than an hour to get there, but the time allows him to compose himself and gather his thoughts.
Like everyone else always does, he lets himself in, but he doesn't have to go all the way to the basement to find his boss. Gibbs is sitting on his sofa, drinking a beer and reading. He looks up at Tony's entrance. "Bit late, isn't it?" he says mildly by way of greeting.
Tony drops down on the couch next to Gibbs. "I suppose it is."
Tony deliberates for a moment and decides that he isn't quite ready to talk. He hops back up and goes to the fridge, helping himself to one of Gibbs' beers. Then he goes back to sit again, feeling slightly antsy. He can't stay there, so he stands up once more to pace. Half a dozen times, he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again.
It doesn't take Gibbs long to get impatient. "Spit it out, DiNozzo," he says, sighing. "You didn't come here to burn a hole in my floor."
"Oh." Realizing that he has in fact been pacing the same five-foot stretch for several minutes now, Tony sheepishly sits down again and sips at the otherwise untouched beer in his hand. "I need some advice, boss."
"About what?"
"Uh… women, actually, sort of," Tony replies awkwardly, glancing over at Gibbs from the corner of his eye.
Gibbs laughs once. "Not sure I can help there. What d'you want me to say to you?"
"Well, it's not just about… women. It's also about work. Sort of."
Gibbs sighs and sets his beer aside. Rather than saying anything else, he simply clasps his hands together and gives Tony a look that tells him he'd better stop being vague and get to the point.
"There's this girl," he starts, and then looks at Gibbs and remembers that the older man knows what he and his partner get up to after work.
"Ziva," Gibbs correctly deciphers. It's not a question.
"Yes. Well, no. Sort of."
"DiNozzo…" Gibbs warns. Get to the point.
"Right, sorry, boss. Let me put it this way—there's someone that I've hurt. I'm having trouble reconciling my job with my… my personal feelings, my home life. How am I supposed to handle that?"
Gibbs shakes his head. "Hell if I know. I've never done it right." He makes a face and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "Look, you've either got to compromise, or you've got to choose. It's pretty straightforward."
Tony groans, making a fist and bouncing it restlessly on his knee. "Compromise just won't work here."
"Then what's more important to you?"
"I don't know, boss." Both things concern his family, really. NCIS is the only real family he's ever had, and the Jeanne Benoit assignment is important to the future safety of his people. On the other hand, Ziva is perhaps the most important member of that same family.
"Figure that out and you'll know what to do," Gibbs suggests.
Tony wonders what Gibbs thinks he's talking about. Gibbs is aware that he and Ziva are sleeping together, so he probably knows who Tony's worries concern, but he doesn't know about the assignment from Jenny. He must suspect something, though, because he hasn't asked—it's possible that he knows Tony has already elaborated as much as he can.
Knowing that's all the answer he's going to get, Tony rises to stand for the last time and gulps down the still nearly-full beer. Still feeling conflicted, he nods at Gibbs and heads for the door. "Thanks, I think."
For the second time tonight, though, he's stopped before he can really leave. "DiNozzo."
"Yeah, boss?" He turns back around.
Gibbs is still sitting where Tony left him, looking speculative. "Sometimes, there's a little flexibility in what you're being asked to do. Be creative and figure out how to make it work. She'll forgive you because she loves you."
Tony nods uncertainly, confused and conflicted. "If you say so." He's sure that if Ziva ever loved him, she doesn't after tonight.
A tiny, crooked smile pops up on Gibbs' face. "I do." He would know—he's not sure what exactly Tony has been assigned and whether that assignment came from Jenny or higher up, but Gibbs, too, has certainly found himself in situations that uncomfortably blurred the lines between his professional life and his personal. He knows how Tony feels because… well, he's been there. "Go on, get out of here. You know where to find me if you need help."
"Right… thanks," Tony repeats, and heads out to his car. Despite not saying much and not knowing the details of Tony's situation, Gibbs has given his team member a lot to think about.