A/N: This story started out so smutty and ended up so plotty, haha. Here's a little taste of what we haven't seen in about 10 chapters! Summed up, this chapter is basically smut and goodbyes. Next chapter will see Ziva off to Israel, but we're not quiiite there yet!
That evening, Tony holds Ziva until she falls asleep, stroking her back and wondering why he's been afraid of this kind of thing for so long. When she's really and truly out, he gently extricates himself from her embrace, ever-so-carefully rearranging her so she's still comfortable and won't wake back up when he leaves. She certainly needs her rest. He kisses her forehead on the way out, watching as it brings a tiny, quick smile to her sleeping face.
He settles onto the sofa back in the living room and turns on a movie—it has to be one on demand, because Ziva's film collection is nonexistent. He finds he's much better able to relax tonight now that she's in her own bed, safe and recovering.
He's interrupted, though, by a knock on the door later in the evening. It's not too late—half past nine or so—but it's still late enough for the knock to be odd, considering they're not expecting company.
He answers the door without checking who it is, though he should know better by now, and he's surprised to see the NCIS director standing out in the hall.
"Jenny—um, Director Shepard," he says awkwardly, his surprise coloring his tone.
"Agent DiNozzo." She's clearly just as surprised to see him, and they stare at one another uncomfortably for half a second before Tony remembers his manners.
"Would you like to come in?" he invites with a small smile.
"Yes, please," Shepard replies, and does so when he steps back to admit her. "Sorry, did I come to the wrong address? I could have sworn I was visiting Ziva David's apartment…"
Tony laughs a little and gestures around. There's a painting of the Haifa seaside on one wall and a Star of David magnet on the fridge—clearly Ziva's decorations rather than his own. "Nope, you've come to the right place. I'm taking care of her after her discharge from the hospital, at least for a few days."
"Where is she?"
"She's asleep."
The silence that falls is awkward again—obviously, Shepard is here to see Ziva, but just as obviously, Tony is reluctant to wake her. It puts them at a slight impasse; the feeling isn't helped by the resentment Shepard knows on some level that DiNozzo must feel toward her after the whole Jeanne Benoit fiasco.
Finally, Shepard breaks the silence when she can't stand it anymore. "I need to talk to Ziva."
Tony puts his hands in his pockets and shifts his position a little, putting himself firmly between the director and Ziva's bedroom door. "Like I said, she's sleeping. Not sure if you heard or not, but she was shot. She needs to recover."
The implication here is clear—he blames the director. Unfortunately, she doesn't have the time to cater to his grudge today, and she faces him without emotion, nodding. "I understand that, Tony, but I have to talk to her. Tonight. It's time sensitive."
"What's it about?" he asks softly—despite his neutral tone, the question is clearly a demand. He's protective of Ziva and isn't going to let her be bothered for just anything. She's not even cleared to go back to work yet!
"I'm sorry, but that's between her and I," Shepard says, matching Tony's tone.
"Whatever you must say to me can be said in front of Tony," Ziva insists quietly, slipping her hand into her partner's and startling both him and the director. She walks almost silently.
"Ziva!" Tony feels and sounds a little guilty. "We didn't mean to wake you up, I'm sorry."
"I am a light sleeper," she assures him, dismissing his concerns. "What do you wish to say, Director Shepard?"
Shepard looks between them, clearly evaluating whether or not she should speak in front of Tony. He shows no signs of moving, though, so Shepard sighs and gestures to the kitchen table. "This is a conversation that is probably best had while sitting," she suggests, and after exchanging glances, Tony and Ziva do so. Shepard does, too, and then she looks squarely at Ziva, no longer hesitating. "Ziva, your position at NCIS has been terminated, and you're to return to Israel within 24 hours." If she sounds regretful, it's because she is. They've all benefited from the Mossad officer's presence in Washington, and the operative will be sorely missed.
"What!?" Tony demands, instantly angry. "Why?"
Ziva's expression is stony, hard but neutral—and rather than telling Tony to back down or asking questions of her own, she merely waits for Shepard's answer.
Shepard shrugs, frowning. "I really couldn't say. It wasn't my decision—this is coming directly from Eli David."
Ziva's expression darkens and Tony looks down at her. "Has he talked to you at all?" he asks.
Ziva emits an angry sigh. "No, he has not." There's thunder in her tone. She believes this is an underhanded move and she's less than impressed with her father. Still, she can't disobey orders.
"He can't just do that, can he?" Tony is completely incredulous. "I mean, you have a life here! This is not just your job, we're your family!"
As much as that would warm Ziva's heart to hear under other circumstances, it's painful to hear now. "Be that as it may, he is my family as well, and more importantly, he is my superior. It is his right to change my orders as he sees fit; his job is the protection of Israel. Personal feelings can play no role."
"Oh, come on, Ziva, don't tell me you're just going along with this!" Tony cries, but he turns to Shepard without waiting for Ziva to answer. "Director, there's got to be something you can do. We need her and you know it!"
"My hands are tied, DiNozzo," Shepard assures him, but her tone makes it clear that she's no happier about this sudden change than he is. "He's in charge of his people, I'm in charge of mine. Unfortunately, Ziva is one of his."
"But what about—I don't know, international relations and all that?" Usually, Tony would know better than to talk to his boss' boss this way, but Ziva's wellbeing has long since surpassed NCIS in his priority lineup.
"International relations and all that is exactly why there's nothing I can do," Shepard answers sternly. "As much as I've appreciated Ziva's presence on Gibbs' team, I can't risk relations with Israel by arguing with the Director of Mossad!"
"But—"
"Enough, Tony!" Ziva snaps. She stands abruptly, moving toward the door. "Please accept my apologies, Director. I understand your position. Thank you for informing me of my father's wishes."
The dismissal is obvious, and not knowing what else to say to the distraught couple anyway, Shepard prepares to leave. Her conversation with Eli David had been just as abrupt and devoid of details, so there's little else to tell Ziva.
"Thank you for everything you've done for NCIS and for me personally, Ziva," Shepard says, more formally than she would normally speak to her Israeli friend. "I'll be sad to see you go."
"And I will be sad to leave," Ziva agrees softly, opening the door for the director.
"Good night and good luck," Shepard says as she leaves.
Ziva closes the door behind her and turns to lean against it, suddenly more exhausted than she'd been before her nap. She closes her eyes, too; she can feel Tony's gaze on her, and she can't bear to face his grief yet.
She's wrong, though—it's not grief Tony's feeling… or it's not grief yet, anyway. For lack of a better word, he's pissed.
There's silence for a few moments as he honest-to-God tries to give her space to process. He can't take it, though, and he grits his teeth. "You gonna say anything, Ziva?"
"What is there to say?" she asks calmly, opening her eyes to look at him. There's pain in her expression, but it's mixed with resignation.
"Say you'll talk to your father! Say you'll do something, I don't know. Say you're not going to leave."
Something in her expression melts and she steps toward him, but she stops short when he steps back, keeping the distance between them steady. She realizes quite suddenly that he's not just angry at the situation or at her father—he's angry with her. "Tony, what would you do if you were reassigned away from Gibbs' team?" she tries. "What if you were sent to a base in California, perhaps, or Europe? Alaska? Asia? I know that Washington is where you wish to be, but what if you were assigned as an agent afloat?"
He doesn't answer and his silence certainly strikes Ziva as ominous. He's not one prone to a lack of words, and he must be feeling quite strongly if he's decided he has no answer for her at all. "This is part of the job. I do not like it any more than you do, but I agreed to the terms long ago. There is no decision to make here, no argument that can change what must happen." She speaks earnestly, trying to make him understand. This isn't personal—she absolutely doesn't want to leave the team, and most of all, she doesn't want to leave him. She just understands better than he does that she doesn't have a choice.
His face contorts again, getting angrier. "What the hell, Ziva? You're the man's daughter! You can't call in a little favor or two?"
"No, I cannot." Despite herself, she feels a little anger burning in her chest, too. She thinks he should understand, but he doesn't—in fact, he couldn't be more wrong. She hesitates slightly but then decides that if he wants to blame her for this, he needs to know exactly why his accusations sting. "In fact, being Eli David's child is the most dangerous position in Mossad."
He starts to reply to this, but she cuts him off.
"Ari Haswari—do you remember him? Of course you do. He put your friend Kate Todd in the ground. You know, do you not, that he was my half-brother? You know, of course, that it is I who fired the gun that ended his life?" Her words are rapid fire and Tony can barely keep up; Ziva's Israeli accent gets stronger when she's emotional, and now he's really set her off. "What you may not know is that I was ordered to do so. I acted to save Gibbs' life, yes, but my father commanded me to take the shot! I was told to come here, take out Ari, and gain the trust of the Americans! I must be the most loyal of Mossad, Tony, so no, I do not have a choice now!"
Tony can't tell exactly what she's implying here—is she saying that her father would have someone take her out if she turned her back on him? Is she saying that it's her responsibility to make up for her brother's life choices, that her father has put that all on her? Or is she saying something else that he's missing entirely, lost as he so often feels in the subtle contours of Israeli secrets and webs of deception?
It hits him all of a sudden that it doesn't matter what exactly she means, because the meaning isn't what's important. What's important is the face value of what she's telling him—she will return to Israel because she must. If he loves her at all—and he does, more than he loves anything else in the world—he has to accept this, has to stop fighting her on it.
Making the decision to do so no matter what it costs him, he starts toward her, reaching for her. He moves slowly, giving her plenty of opportunities to move away if she doesn't want him close, but she doesn't, standing still and watching him warily. He stops being hesitant and grips her face to pull her into a fierce kiss that he makes gentle after only a moment. Then he pulls away, looking at her seriously—for the first time since Shepard's appearance, she looks troubled, and he continues to cradle her face.
"I don't want to lose you," he tells her quietly, letting his fear into his voice. Vulnerability is something he's been working on since realizing his feelings for her.
"You do not have to," she assures him quickly.
"Hmm… not 'you won't', just 'you don't have to'. What do you mean, Ziva?"
She gives him a smile that's only a little shaky. Tony can see that she's a little afraid, too, even if she's acting completely stoic. "It depends on how you feel about distance relationships," she answers.
He gives a humorless chuckle, but he starts stroking her face and it seems to soothe her. "We haven't even defined what we are here, where we see each other every day."
"Do we need to?" Ziva challenges.
Tony shakes his head and gives her a half-smile. "No. But what will we be when you're… what, four thousand miles away?"
"Fifty-eight hundred miles away, actually. But I am willing to bridge the distance if you are." Ziva leans into his unresisting hands until her lips meet his.
"Yeah? How would that look?" Tony wants to know when the kiss ends.
"It would not be easy," Ziva admits. "There is text, of course, and email. We could video chat—it is a seven hour time difference. And I imagine that planes will continue to exist in the future. We could take turns visiting. I have made the flight many times—it is a long trip but certainly doable."
Tony can't help but laugh. "Ah, all the balls and chains of being in a relationship without any of the sex!"
Ziva looks hurt and starts to pull away, but he pulls her back tighter, tugging her against his chest. "I'm joking, Ziva. Sounds like a lot of work, but I think we're up to the challenge. You sure about this?"
She looks up at him, smiling again. "I do not wish to lose you, either," she confesses.
"Well, I'm kind of irresistible," he jokes in reply.
"Tony—please be serious." Ziva hasn't lost her smile, though, and he knows she's more amused by his antics that she wants to be.
"I am." Tony presses a kiss to her forehead. "Let's do it. Let's try this whole long-distance thing."
"You really mean that?"
"I do."
Ziva beams at him, and he would agree to far less pleasant things than a relationship with her to bring that expression to her face as often as possible. She jumps up at him unexpectedly, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him exuberantly.
Laughing, Tony catches her and kisses her back. "Doesn't hurt to move like that?" he asks into her lips after a minute.
"Worth it," she assures him, kissing him again.
"Mm, Ziva?" he interrupts after a too-short period of delightful activity.
"Yes?"
"Remember what you said about starting things I can't finish? Yeah, you're headed in that direction yourself."
He looks down at her to see she's smirking. "Who says I cannot… finish?" she asks suggestively, running her fingers along the collar of his shirt.
"Ziva," he complains darkly, "you've just had a major operation. You've still got stitches in your abdomen—I should know, since I'm the one that promised the hospital I'd be checking to make sure they didn't get infected."
"You are capable of being gentle, are you not?"
Tony shakes his head at her in mild exasperation, suppressing a smile. "You really want to do this, huh?"
"It will be the last opportunity for some time, yes?"
"That's true," he agrees speculatively.
"You do not wish to do it, however," she concludes.
"Hey, I never said that. But I think I'm right to be a little concerned here."
Ziva kisses him once more, chastely this time. "Your concern is noted, and appreciated. I will not break, however."
Tony's rarely hard to convince when it comes to sex, but he has to try one more time. "You'll tell me if I hurt you?"
"You will not…" She backtracks, however, seeing the expression on his face. "But yes, I would tell you."
Tony stops arguing, leaning down to fit his lips back over hers. Ziva grins into it, triumphant, and wastes no time deepening the kiss. She's missed her sex life with Tony—they both have—but there's something different about it now that they've admitted how they feel, even if the mechanics are the same.
Ziva starts unbuttoning Tony's shirt and finishes in record time. When she moves her lips down to his throat, he groans and tangles a hand in her hair. "I'll—uh, oh, Ziva—mm, I'll let you take the, um, the lead here. Just in case." He's having an extraordinarily difficult time talking all of the sudden as she does something very interesting to the underside of his jaw with her tongue.
"Pleased to hold the rain," Ziva answers, sounding infuriatingly unaffected.
"Reins," Tony gasps—she's just nipped his collarbone and the sensation has gone straight to his crotch. "Like for a horse."
"Mm, a horse?" Ziva starts on her own top now that he's down to just an undershirt. "Does that mean that you wish to be ridden?"
With a breathless laugh, Tony knocks her hands away to finish pulling her shirt off himself. "If you insist."
"I do." Down to her bra, Ziva connects their lips again, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pushes lightly, walking him backwards til his knees hit the back of her sofa and he falls heavily onto it just as she lets him go.
Tony doesn't seem to mind having the breath knocked out of him and he looks up at her. It's incredible how sexy she looks to him in a simple cotton bra, pink pajama pants, and a gauze bandage on her upper abdomen. It's even sexier how—judging from her smirk—she knows exactly what she does to him.
"On a day of better health, I might treat you to a… dance, yes?" Ziva raises her eyebrows, making sure he's imagining exactly what she's suggesting.
"Ah, cruel to bring it up and not do it, Ziva," Tony comments, but it doesn't sound like a complaint. In fact, given the tenting happening in his pants, he's happy to let his imagination do the work.
"Just reminding you of what you might look forward to in a Skype call, Tony," she teases. She winks before turning around, bending over in a markedly lascivious manner as she pushes her pajama pants and underwear to the floor.
"Is this all lookie and no touchy, or are you going to come closer at some point?" Tony's voice sounds tighter again, making Ziva very smug.
Ziva stands back up, throwing her head back and laughing. "I know English is not my first language, but are you intentionally making innuendos right now? I am impressed that you have the brain power." With only the slightest wince that Tony tries not to worry over, Ziva kneels in front of him and helps him out of his pants and boxers, too. "To answer your question, I do intend to come. Whether it will be closer or not is up to you." She stays where she is on the ground but folds her arms across his bare legs and rests on them, smiling up at him pleasantly.
Tony groans loudly and drops his head to the sofa back. "You're killin' me, Smalls." Her breath is hitting deliciously in a place that's making him feel painfully aroused. Reaching forward, he grips her under the arms and tugs her toward him, making her laugh and assist him by climbing in his lap as he intends for her to do.
He immediately unhooks her bra and slides it down her arms, tossing it carelessly over her head to land somewhere on the floor behind her. Then he gawks at her chest appreciatively, his gaze intentionally lewd—she rolls her eyes, but he knows she enjoys it. "Now those—those breasts are doing great service to the American people. Those breasts don't belong highly covered in the Middle Eastern desert."
"Tel Aviv has many beaches, Tony," Ziva points out, but then she has to match his recent groan with one of her own as he gently tweaks both of her nipples without warning. "They may not—mm, they may not be highly covered in Israel for much of the time."
"I've really got to come visit, then," he says emphatically, dropping one of his hands and replacing it with his lips. Ziva lets out a little cry, her hands moving to grip the back of his head in encouragement.
"I am counting on it," she assures him. All of the attention on her breasts is making her ache down below, and she moves her hips restlessly. Tony nips softly, though, forcing all rational thought out of Ziva's head again. "Tony, please," she whines.
He breaks away from her nipple with a wet pop to murmur "your wish, my command," dropping a hand to feel around between her legs. It doesn't take long to get his bearings, and soon he's dipping first one finger and then two into her heat, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit.
She stops him more quickly than he'd like, though, grabbing his arm. "That is not how I wish to come this time, Tony," she says, her voice more serious than he expects it to be, and he pulls away from her breast.
"No, I suppose not," he agrees softly, withdrawing his hand, too. He has to half-smile when she makes an involuntary noise of disagreement, though.
He wipes his wet fingers on his undershirt before pulling it over his head; then he tangles both hands in her hair, pulling her down to rest her forehead on his. For several long beats, they stay that way, Ziva's hands coming to rest on Tony's chest. "I'm gonna miss you, David," he says gruffly.
"I will miss you, too, Tony, but I do not wish to be sad tonight." Despite Ziva's words, her expression is bittersweet, and she tilts her face down to kiss him. When they've both built up their desire again, pushing past the pain of impending separation, Ziva reaches down to grip him and sinks down slowly.
She starts to move but doesn't pick up her speed, and for once, Tony doesn't feel any need to rush her. This is what they need tonight, this sweet, torturous version of sex that's first and foremost a release of emotions. They keep kissing as they go, languorous and deep.
They barely increase in speed as they reach the end, and sensing what Ziva needs, Tony reaches down to lightly rub her clit again. He still goes over the edge first, but he pulls her with him almost immediately. Crying out into one another's lips, they do their best to draw out the sensations, to make the time count and to make it last.
Walking into the NCIS building the next morning is a somber affair. It's very clear that word of Ziva's impending exit has been spread around the office; Ziva received an email this morning from Shepard saying that a courtesy flight has been arranged for her. It departs Dulles at 1900 hours, less than twelve hours from now. She suspects that Shepard is also the one who told the team that Ziva is leaving. She sends a silent thank you up in the direction of Jenny's office, grateful that she doesn't have to break the news to her team. It's going to be hard enough just saying goodbye to everyone without having to see firsthand the emotional effects of her departure.
Silence falls in the bullpen as Ziva and Tony walk in, hand-in-hand… the rule against fraternization is clearly nonapplicable now that Ziva has stopped working at NCIS. Tony still drops her hand as they approach Gibbs' desk, though, because they both have things they need to say to him without distractions.
"Boss," Tony starts, "I was hoping to—"
"Take the day off, DiNozzo," Gibbs answers gruffly, not letting Tony finish. There's no need—he knows what Tony is asking for. "Do what you need to do."
"Right," Tony agrees with relief. "Thanks, boss." He would hate to get on Gibbs' bad side by ignoring orders if he wasn't given the day off, but there's no way in hell that he would spend Ziva's last stateside day anywhere other than right by her side. He's starting to miss her already and she hasn't even left yet.
Gibbs nods, but he's not looking at Tony anymore. He's looking at Ziva, whose face has settled back into the neutral mask she so often wears around anyone she's afraid to show her emotions to. "Ziver," he says. "My office. Now."
He stands up and heads to the elevator without waiting for an answer. Ziva exchanges glances with Tony—he grabs her hand to squeeze it once before gently shooing her after her former boss.
She slips between the elevator doors just as they're closing, and she says nothing as Gibbs engages the elevator in an emergency stop as per usual. He stares at her for a long moment without saying anything, and just when she's decided she's uncomfortable with the silence, he opens his mouth to speak. "You're leaving," he comments flatly.
She nods.
"You get a choice in that?"
She shakes her head.
"You alright with it?"
She starts to nod, but then without any warning at all, her eyes well up with tears. She won't let them fall, but she makes the decision to let Gibbs see how affected she really is. Now is a time for honesty, not for hiding. "I do not wish to leave my family," she admits, her voice breaking twice. She can't let Tony see how she feels about this, because she knows he's already hurting. Around Gibbs, though, she can let her guard down. He's like a father figure to her and she knows he'll take this secret with him to the grave if she asks him to.
He half smiles and draws her into a hug, tightly embracing her. "You're still family no matter how far you go, kid. Leaving doesn't make a lick o' difference."
She sniffles and relaxes into the embrace. "I know that," she assures him, her voice more wobbly than she would like for it to be.
"Do you?" Gibbs pulls back and gives her a searching look.
Again, she starts to answer affirmatively but something in her can't lie to him. "I wish to believe it, but faith is not my strongest virtue," she honestly says instead.
Gibbs' face hardens, and Ziva knows instinctively what he's thinking. He has her father in mind, thinking that she should not have a hard time believing that she's a loved and valued family member. "Time'll help you figure out that I mean it," he promises her quietly.
Ziva doesn't look reassured. "Time spent under my father's hand in Israel."
Gibbs raises his eyebrows. "I know I taught you better than that, Ziver. You won't be under anyone's thumb. You'll be doing what I expect of you every day when you're here—working, paying attention, strengthening your skills. When you come back, you'll be a stronger investigator than you are now."
"What do you mean when you say 'when I come back'?" Ziva demands, her expression suddenly shifting from morose to determined. Whatever Gibbs has up his sleeve, she wants to be a part of it.
At this, he laughs—it's a bittersweet sound because he's sad that she's leaving but he's so very proud of who she has become. "From the day we met, I have never known you to blindly follow orders. I can't imagine you're any different in Israel. You'll come back somehow, I'd bet you anything."
While Ziva's brief surge of hope leaves and makes her deflate a little, she feels a fierce kind of pride burning in her chest at this evidence of Gibbs' total faith in her. "I hope that you are right."
"Has my gut ever failed you?"
She smiles and shakes her head, feeling bolstered.
"Then listen to it now. We're not done with you yet, Ziva."
That brings tears to her eyes again, and she wonders about how much her hardened warrior exterior has softened. Here, having a compassionate and deeply feeling heart is an asset, but back in Israel… she'll need to re-learn how to guard her soul, and quickly. "I know you mean that now," she mumbles, "but what about when you find my replacement? I will be forgotten. Your team will be made complete by another agent—and that is what I want for you, all of you."
Gibbs shakes his head. Ziva is such a smart person and her insights never cease to impress him, but she can also be completely obtuse when it comes to emotional matters. "Doesn't matter who sits at that desk. Won't erase who you are and what you are to me."
They're still hugging—unusual for both of them to let an embrace last this long—and Ziva presses her face into his shoulder to hide her expression. "What am I to you?" she asks, needing clarification and reassurance.
"Come on, Ziva—if you can't figure that out, you're not half as smart as I gave you credit for being." Gibbs is just as uncomfortable with emotional displays as Ziva is, and he tries to steer her to the correct conclusion without having to make himself vulnerable at the same time.
Ziva finally looks up at him. "I need to hear you say it, Gibbs." It takes all of her courage to admit that to him.
Gibbs sees that and despite his personal hangups, he can't leave her hanging… not when he knows she already has one disappointment of a father. "Ziva," he concedes slowly, "you know who you are. You're part of my team." He sees her nod and look away, her face returning to its stony mask to hide her disappointment—he knows he isn't saying what she wants or needs to hear. His mind flashes to Kelly—she was his only biological child, but he's long since privately considered his team members to be his kids, too. Saying it out loud feels almost like an insult to Kelly's memory, though, almost like he's replacing her.
Ziva deserves both his honesty and his love, however, and he sends a silent apology to Kelly's ghost. "Ziva." He ever-so-gently pulls away and places his hand under her chin, pressing up until she tilts her face toward him and makes eye contact again. "You're my kid. My daughter." Gibbs can see some of the pain in Ziva's eyes fade away and he knows he's made the right decision regardless of the personal cost. "That's never going to change."
Ziva makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob and she hugs him again. She breathes out something that's difficult to make out… it sounds very close to "I love you."
Taking the chance that he heard her right, he kisses her hair and murmurs "I love you, too" right back. And he does. It will never matter to him what her past looks like—or what her future looks like, for that matter. She's his family—permanently.