A/N: I wrestled with this chapter for a while; goodbyes with everyone felt a little excessive, but then I remembered how frustrated I was when Ziva left in season 11 and the only character who got to say goodbye to her in person was Tony… so here we've got goodbyes with all the major players, except Gibbs because she said her farewells to him in the last chapter. Also, there's a bit of a smutty scene at the end! Next chapter will feature a little more drama as Ziva gets to Israel and finds out why she's been recalled.
The rest of the day involves more goodbyes than Ziva has ever dealt with before. The hardest goodbyes are Gibbs and of course Tony, but she pushes herself to have a meaningful farewell with every one of her teammates… she has to continually remind herself that the slight discomfort and the stirrings of grief these interactions give her will be worth it in the long run. These aren't relationships that she's used to having, despite now having been at NCIS for more than two years. This isn't what Mossad was like—this isn't what she's going back to when she steps off the plane in Israel. There, team members have trust amongst themselves because they must, but family-like relationships… even when team members are related, it's never like this.
She leaves Gibbs in the elevator and steps off at Abby's lab. Walking in, she finds herself immediately buried underneath an emotional and very solid forensic scientist. "Oh, Ziva!" Abby cries, hugging Ziva more tightly than she can remember being held ever before. "I can't believe you're leaving—and with no warning!? What is Mossad thinking!? We have at least as much claim to you as they do. They should really—"
Ziva cuts her off, slightly overwhelmed as she so often feels around the well-meaning but loud scientist. "Abby! Abby, take a breath, please."
Abby hugs her more tightly for a moment before letting her go and looking at her unhappily. "I don't want to breathe! You're leaving us."
"I know." Ziva can't help smiling at her friend. "I must say, however, that if enthusiasm decided my fate, I believe I would never leave your lab. Mossad has nothing on your… on how emphatic you are." She and Tony never went to sleep last night, and exhaustion makes keeping command of the English language more difficult than usual.
She'll have to sleep on the plane tonight; she's certain that her father will expect her to hit the ground running tomorrow, and she can't afford to disappoint him. She knows that if he's recalling her to Tel Aviv, he must not trust her to remain so far away and stay loyal to him and to Israel.
"Well, what does decide your fate?" Abby asks, a little too shrewd. It pulls Ziva out of her head, and she laughs humorlessly.
"It is not a what, Abby, but rather a who. My father is the one who… who hands out assignments, yes?"
"Ah, yes… Eli David." Abby's expression makes it clear that Tony isn't the only one who holds a somewhat distasteful opinion of her father.
"That is his name, yes," Ziva confirms uncomfortably. One small upside to having to leave NCIS is that she will no longer need to feel as if she's walking a tightrope in between two very different worlds. If she has an issue with her father, it will once again be her problem and hers alone. Israeli law dictates what she can and cannot say to her friends at NCIS, and feeling torn between obligations is something she will not miss.
"You don't want to talk about him," Abby correctly concludes, smiling a little in sympathy.
"No, I do not," Ziva says gratefully.
"Okay. I won't talk about how he's a stupid, pig-headed, manipulative old—"
"Abby!" Ziva's not offended but she still cuts Abby off, laughing.
"Okay, okay." Abby's grinning, and she pulls Ziva over to her Bunsen burner. "Now, I didn't have much time to prepare, but…" Sitting on a cookie tin atop the burner are a number of people-shaped cookies… one for every major member of Gibbs' team.
"Oh, Abby…" Ziva's touched, and she beams at her friend.
"They're for your plane ride!" Abby shares. "You know, so you remember that we have your back before you go into the lion's den."
Abby's persistence truly amuses Ziva, and she gives the scientist another hug. "What is it that you think Mossad is like?" she wonders aloud when she pulls back.
"Oh, you know… assassins, ninjas, soulless killers, backstabbers, and one little cutie who could play any of those roles if she wanted to but wouldn't because she's too good for all that." This is accompanied by a little wink, making it very clear who the "little cutie" is.
"Ha! In truth, it is not all that different from what NCIS is. We, too, spend much of our time behind computer screens. That is where most problems are solved." Despite herself, though, Ziva appreciates Abby's assessment. It's true that she's changed much in her time in Washington… and Abby is making it clear that she trusts the person Ziva has become.
Abby finally gives up on maligning Mossad for the time being. "Then Gibbs would do terribly there," she says lightly instead.
"That he would," Ziva confirms with a small chuckle. Picturing him attempting to follow her father's orders… it's laughable indeed.
Abby starts packing up the cookies she made, taking extra care not to muss the icing that differentiates one from another. "He'd get himself in trouble there—not that he doesn't here, I guess, but I think the director gives him a long leash. And so did Morrow, you know, our old director. I mean, Gibbs barely answers to anyone!"
"He answers to his own conscience," Ziva points out.
"And we answer to it, too, don't we?"
"You do, and so does the rest of the team. As of today, though… I do not anymore." The little smile Ziva wears is sad despite her best efforts.
"Mm. Just promise me that no matter what your dad asks you to do, you'll at least follow your own conscience?" Abby looks concerned—and for good reason.
"I will do what I must, Abby, but… I promise that I will try." Ziva wishes she could do better than that.
Abby seems to understand, though. "Well, I believe in you."
"Thank you." Ziva glances at the clock and knows it's time to wrap up. Abby isn't the only person she needs to stop and see today and time is limited; the only flight available when Shepard went to book Ziva a seat was a commercial one, so she'll need to arrive at the airport several hours ahead of the flight and go through special security checks because of the weapons she's traveling with. "Abby, listen… I wanted to thank you. You have been a very loyal friend since I arrived, and… you have been a better friend than I expected or deserved."
Abby tackles Ziva in another bone-crushing hug. "Don't thank me, Ziva. This is what friends are supposed to be like. Remember that, okay?"
"I will certainly try." Ziva hugs Abby back just as tightly, feeling her eyes well up for the second time in an hour. "Goodbye, Abby."
"Bye, Ziva."
The next stop is to Ducky down in autopsy. When she arrives, he's bending over a body—a quick glance tells her that it's the body of a homicide victim whose death they've already solved… he must be preparing it for pickup, or maybe the body is already prepared and Ducky's using it to give Ziva an out on talking face-to-face if she doesn't wish to do so.
"Ah, Ziva. I've been expecting you. Come in, come in." Still looking down at the body, he smiles in welcome.
Ziva gently touches her hand to his upper back, encouraging him to look up at her. "I am okay, Ducky," she assures him gently. She deeply appreciates his sensitivity, though, and under most circumstances, she absolutely would be uncomfortable with the emotional displays she's participated in today. Ducky has always understood her.
"I must say I'm glad to hear it," Ducky says, looking up at her. "Are you prepared to return to your childhood home?"
"As prepared as I can be," she agrees.
"You're packed?"
"No, but someone from Mossad will have that arranged on my behalf. That is one upside to being part of an organization with such a far reach."
"Now that is an advantage! I find that the act of moving is in and of itself a deterrent to going anywhere because it's so much exhausting work."
"I could not agree more, Ducky." Ziva smiles at her older friend.
Ducky pauses and lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You will be very missed, my dear girl," he promises softly. "Please don't be a stranger. Even Jethro might be encouraged to video chat with you if we tell him there's a navy admiral needing to talk to him in MTAC," he adds, teasing.
Ziva laughs. "I cannot speak for Gibbs, but I will try to be available enough to everyone here that you do not need to trick me into communicating."
"That's all we can really ask."
They smile at each other for another beat before Ziva leans in and presses a gentle, heartfelt kiss to his cheek. "Goodbye, Ducky. I will miss you, too."
"Farewell, Ziva. Perhaps it's nearly time for me to visit Israel again… I would, of course, need a local guide."
"I would appreciate that very much."
The last two office goodbyes are shorter and easier but not any less painful. First is Palmer, who physically runs into Ziva as she passes through the autopsy doors to get on the elevator.
"Oh, Ziva! I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you there," Jimmy apologizes, awkward but sincere as always.
"Kindly remove your head from the clouds, Mr. Palmer!" Ducky calls from behind them, and Palmer and Ziva look at each other and chuckle. They both move back out of the doorway, standing just in front of the elevator.
"Did I hear that you're leaving?" Jimmy asks.
"I am."
"Mm. I thought it was probably true, especially since I was the last one to hear it. That's usually how it works around here." The smile he gives her is so genuine that Ziva knows Palmer isn't frustrated with her in the least—his easygoing, earnest nature is something she very much so appreciates about him.
"Unfortunately, it is true. I depart for Israel tonight."
"You'll come back and visit, though, right?"
"You know, you are the first person to ask me that, Jimmy. Everyone else is just… sad. And yes, I certainly intend to do so—as often as I can," she promises.
"Just make sure to stop by autopsy when you do." Palmer smiles again and they share a hug.
These goodbyes are wearing on Ziva, forcing more emotion through her than she's used to feeling at one time. Still, she forces herself to continue.
She steps into the elevator after her goodbye to Palmer; just McGee left now. Luckily for her, though, he's waiting to get onto the elevator when she arrives back at the bullpen. "McGee, just the man I was looking for," she tells him with a grin, and she gestures that she's not getting out of the car and that he should step in.
When he does, they default to Gibbs' elevator stop method and look at each other. "Guess this is it, huh?" Tim asks.
"For now," Ziva agrees with a small shrug.
Tim nods and then looks at her with more speculation. "Are you and Tony going to do the whole long-distance thing?"
Ziva gives him a look. "Is that any business of yours, McGee?"
"No," Tim replies frankly, "and to be honest, I do not want any details. I just want to know exactly what level of insufferable Tony is going to be for the next… well, however long."
"That is… fair." Ziva meets McGee's eye again and they both laugh. "We are going to try continuing our relationship."
"Well, if there's ever been a couple more annoying or annoyingly suited for one another, it's you guys," Tim teases in answer. "If anyone can do it, you can."
He unexpectedly takes her hand and squeezes it; she feels a surge of affection for him. He's always been a steadfast and supportive friend. She squeezes back. "Thank you, Tim. And thank you for everything else, too."
He knows what she means and doesn't ask her to elaborate. "Hey, thank you, too. You've had my back since the day you got here. You know you're like a sister to me, right?"
Ziva nods. "And I consider you a brother, too." She initiates a hug, and like with Ducky, she feels the need to kiss his cheek, making him smile.
"Stay in touch, Ziva. I'm going to miss you."
"I will miss you, too. And I will come back—this is not goodbye forever." Every time she says something along those lines, it feels more true.
Tony insists on walking Ziva into the airport to say goodbye, even though she's told him several times today that it's unnecessary. There's something pained in his expression that stops her protests at some point, though, and she realizes that this isn't just for her. It's for him, too.
Tony parks his car and takes her hand as soon as they're out; they're silent as they head toward international departures.
They stop near the line for airport security and Ziva catches his eye. He can't come any further with her and they both know it. "Tony…" He looks at her expectantly, but it's all she can say. Her face crumples just a little, though, and he sighs heavily and pulls her into a hug like every other freaking person has done today. She's tired of being seen as emotionally needy, but not nearly as tired as she is of the fact that everyone who's seen the need to hug her today has been absolutely right.
This hug is different than the others, though. It isn't that she hasn't absolutely adored her parting embraces with her NCIS family, because she has. None of those people gently pressed on the back of her head to encourage her to dry her eyes on their shoulders; no one at the naval yard pressed their noses into her hair and breathed in a deep, shuddering breath, making her feel cradled and cherished and more than a little heartbroken. None of those people hugged her like Tony is hugging her now, and if she feels a tear or two drop onto the top of her head, she doesn't comment.
They stand there like that for a long time; neither can really say how long. "Oh, Ziva," Tony says eventually, pulling reluctantly out of the hug and searching her face. His own face is clear again, though his eyelashes still look suspiciously wet. "We're going to be fine, right?"
"Yes," she answers shortly, not trusting her own voice.
He gives a rugged chuckle, sounding like he's got something stuck in his throat. "I'm glad to hear it, because otherwise, I wouldn't let you on that plane."
The start of a bickering conversation feels at once familiar and foreign in this time of goodbyes, and Ziva's smiling response is more stable now. "You would not 'let me'? Does that mean you believe you could stop me?"
"Easily," Tony says, relief brightening his features as he sees some of her sadness melting away, too. "Now, anyone else? Yeah, they wouldn't stand a chance. Me, though… my advantage is that you wouldn't hurt me. You might want to, and your trigger finger might get close to blowing my head off, but you couldn't do it. You know why?"
"Why?" She's anticipating a joke and before he's even made one, she feels herself relax some. Of course they'll be fine, she thinks.
"Because you loooooove me," he sing-songs. "You just can't get enough of me! If you killed me, you'd regret it in fifteen seconds or less, guaranteed, and you're too smart to make impulse decisions like that."
She jokingly twitches her hand in the direction of her sidepiece—but she's careful not to be too terribly obvious about it. She's aware of airport security issues, particularly in this country. "I suppose you are right," she agrees in a pseudo-placating voice.
"I am?" Tony's mildly suspicious at her lack of an argument, leading Ziva to smell a victory.
"Yes. You are far too entertaining to kill…" Tony starts to preen, but Ziva has yet to finish her thought. "Because few are quite as obvious with their outright stupidity as you have a tendency to be."
"Hey!" Tony cries in mock offense, laughing. "Whatever, Ziva. I'll take what I can get." He hugs her tightly again, and this time, they're both smiling. "Well, I suppose this is your cue, isn't it?"
Ziva glances past Tony's head at the flight board, and she nods, sighing. "Yes. I know it will take some time to get through security, so I probably should begin…" She trails off, looking at him a little helplessly.
"Unless you just... don't go?" Tony suggests quietly. "You could stay. We'd figure it out."
"You know I cannot, Tony," she murmurs soberly.
"Yeah. I know. But I had to try, didn't I?" His tone matches hers now, resigned.
"You would not be the Tony I love if you did not," Ziva grants.
That brings a brighter smile back to Tony's face. "And you wouldn't be the Ziva I love if you backed down from a challenge, no matter who asked you to." He pulls further away from her to place both hands on her shoulders, looking at her squarely. "Be careful who you pick fights with in Israel, though, okay? Not that I don't think you can handle yourself… I just don't know if I trust anyone there to have your back like we would. Make sure you're making it back to us in one piece, that's all I'm saying."
Ziva's reflexive first thought is to argue that she doesn't need anyone at her back, but if that was ever true, it isn't now. She swallows it down and nods. "I will do my best only if you will do the same. You have Gibbs and McGee, but… they cannot protect you from everyone. Pick your wars, Tony."
It's a mark of how deeply he cares for her that Tony doesn't argue any more than Ziva does herself, and he nods seriously. This feels like a commitment, and for once… it doesn't bother him. He doesn't even point out the minor flaw in the English idiom she just used. "You be safe," he agrees, "I'll be safe, and we'll meet soon, yeah?"
"That sounds alright to me." Ziva smiles and stands up on her tiptoes to kiss him; he stays absolutely still except for a very slight return kiss. "I love you, Tony."
"I love you, too, Ziva. Always will." He kisses her again and puts a little more into it; this kiss says farewell in a way that he's not brave enough to say with his words.
One more long hug and one more long kiss and then they break apart for the foreseeable future. There's several seconds of silence as they study one another's faces, committing features to memory, and then Ziva gives a half smile and starts to turn away.
"Tell your dad I said hi!" Tony calls after her sarcastically, and her tinkling laugh in reply makes him grin. She doesn't turn around, but maybe it's better that way.
Tony starts to turn, too, but he stops and turns back on his heel to watch her enter the security line. Suddenly, feeling just a little bit mischievous, he has the urge to embarrass her. "We'll always have Paris!" he yells from twenty feet away; a number of heads turn to look strangely at him, but her turning head is the only one that matters.
She grins and does something that surprises him. "Here's looking at you, kid!" she calls back, quoting the same Casablanca airport scene that he quoted.
He's at once impressed, a little bummed, and head over heels in love with her.
She winks at him from across the room and he grins at her before turning to go. It only occurs to him later that they never really said goodbye, and as cheesy and cliche as it is, its gives him the hope that this isn't really goodbye after all.
They'll be just fine.
Ziva's first flight is a long one to Istanbul; the length of the trip is good thing. She should use the time to sleep, but she feels antsy and restless and never drifts off. Instead, she uses the time to prepare herself for her professional aliyah. She's more nervous than she should be, especially considering the fact that Mossad has always been her true employer, not NCIS… but despite what she told Abby, there are many significant differences between the two organizations. She's out of practice on dealing with the very layered levels of Mossad politics—it's something she used to be able to navigate with ease.
During the flight, she also finally indulges in the urge to cry that's been threatening her composure all day. The pain is easier to let out around strangers whose opinions don't matter.
When the plane touches down in Istanbul and she's able to turn her phone back on, she sends Tony a text.
Arrived in Istanbul, she types. Hangover here then on to Tel Aviv.
It's just after 0400 back in Washington, but Tony replies almost instantly, making Ziva frown. He should be in bed. Despite her disapproval at her boyfriend's sleep habits, she opens the text to see what he has to say. The word is layover. Miss me yet?
She chuckles and shoots off a response. Maybe a little. But I will talk to you when I arrive in Israel because right now you should be sleeping.
Ziva's digging her carry on out from under the seat in front of her when the phone dings again. Trying 2 get rid of me?
No, she replies. Trying to look after you. Eat a vegetable and go to bed.
She doesn't get a reply text, but her phone rings a few minutes later as she's deplaning. "Tony, you really should be asleep," she says, amused, instead of greeting him when she answers.
"Ha, you must miss me—you're already trying to get me back in bed!" Tony teases, sounding to Ziva like he's very tired. She wishes he'd just go rest… but she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't want the company.
"Mm… maybe that is the way to get you to sleep," she speculates, smirking and walking off of the jet bridge into Atatürk. "How about you slide under the blankets, my love, remove your pajama pants, and think about how much you miss me?"
Ziva can hear Tony's breath quicken at her suggestion, making her feel rather smug. "I'm, uh, I'm actually already in bed. But I might just do that once we're off the phone."
"Perhaps you can record a video of it to email to me. Remind me what I am missing, yes?" Her primary aim here is to tease her boyfriend, but the desire is genuine. They're going to have to figure out how to appease their mutual sexual frustrations through things like this or their relationship is doomed to fail.
A low groan and a fair amount of rustling is all Ziva can hear in response, and she laughs sensually. "I think you said you would wait until the end of the call, did you not?"
"You're too fucking sexy—I couldn't wait," Tony grunts, and the rustling sound in the background gets more regular.
"Are you picturing me there, Tony? Is it me you are thrusting into?" A woman walking past gives Ziva an offended glare and Ziva smiles blandly at her, giving a little wave.
Tony grunts again and between his vocalizations and the sounds of the blankets on top of him, Ziva is able to get a very clear mental image of what he's doing… and it's turning her on, too. It's rather unfortunate that she's in a very public place with no hope of privacy—or a bed—to take care of herself any time soon.
There's a delay in Tony's reply, but eventually he speaks again. "Oh, baby… fuck. Yes, you're all I can think about. Mm."
Ziva pays only vague attention to the airport as she navigates her way to her next gate—most of her brain power is focused firmly on making her boyfriend miss her as much as possible. "Good. Because I am the only one you are allowed to thrust into." Her voice is sultry, commanding—she knows exactly what he likes. "Now tell me, Tony… what is your imagination showing you? Where are you thrusting? My hand? My mouth? Somewhere... else?"
Tony chuckles breathlessly. "Mm… listening to you talk has got me thinking about your mouth. Love it when you go down on me, Ziva."
"Come to Israel and it will be the first thing I do," she promises before grinning. "Come to Israel and I will make sure you come in Israel. Many times."
"You know what? I'll meet you there."
Ziva can tell from the sound of his voice that Tony is really getting into it. "Well-behaved boys receive rewards," she informs him flirtatiously, her voice throaty. "The only limit is your imagination." She finds a relatively secluded corner to stand in and lowers her voice before getting more explicit. "You would like a blowjob, my love? You wish to have my lips wrapped around your cock while I suck on you like a lollipop? It will feel warm, I think, and wet. If I hum, you will feel vibrations that make your breath catch in your throat. I will lay my hands on your thighs and dig my nails into your skin, because I know you like a little pain with your pleasure. Your hands will tangle in my hair and though you will try not to, you will pull the strands—and I will moan because I like a little pain with my pleasure, too. I will keep my eyes on your face and you will get to see just how much I enjoy making you come. And finally, when you have face-fucked me as much as you can handle, you will orgasm. Remember how I said my eyes would not leave your face? I will look you in the eye as I swallow every drop."
Through her little monologue, Tony's groans and grunts have been getting more frequent and the rustling of blankets have been getting faster. Ziva knows him so well by now that just the change in his breathing tips her off to how he's feeling—he's close, no more than seconds away from ejaculating. "Come for me, Tony," she orders softly, her voice almost a purr. "Picture yourself spilling into my throat. Come on, my love. Come. Now."
She can hear it when he follows her command—his long, low groan of her name is a dead giveaway—and she has to surreptitiously squeeze her thighs together to relieve some of the ache between her legs. "That is it, ahava shelli. Good job. I am proud of you."
Tony laughs as he catches his breath. "Holy shit," he comments, his grin obvious in the timbre of his voice. "I was just calling to hear your voice, ya know, see how your flight went, but…" he whistles. "You just had to go above and beyond, didn't you?"
Ziva giggles—it makes Tony's heart soar. "I did not expect my time in transit to be enjoyable, but that was fun."
"Yeah, it was—especially for me." Tony laughs again. "You're wonderful, Ziva," he adds, his voice full of affection. "And not just 'cause of—you know."
Ziva doesn't know how to respond to that, but it makes her feel absolutely lovely, all warm and bubbly and cherished. "Thank you, Tony," she finally murmurs. "And thank you for worrying enough about me to keep from sleeping."
"I can sleep when I'm dead," Tony replies cheerfully. "I think I am going to try to really go to bed once you make it to your next gate, though. Hopefully I can get a few hours in—today is my first day back to work and I need to be at the office before too long. Gibbs'll be pissed if I fall asleep at my desk."
"Tony, please do go sleep!" Ziva insists. "It is unsafe for you to be overly tired on the job."
"Eh, I'll pull a Gibbs and get through the day on coffee," Tony counters, unconcerned. "Don't worry about it. I'd rather be talking to you than sleeping, anyway. Especially if there's phone sex involved."
Ziva snorts—Tony is nothing if not consistent—and starts moving on in the direction of her gate. "Next time," she informs him primly, "it is your turn."
"My turn for what?"
"Your turn to talk me to an orgasm," she replies imperiously.
Tony groans. "See, now I want to do that. Your layover's not long enough to get yourself a hotel room, is it?"
"Unfortunately, it is not. But you will be my first call once I am settled into my new apartment."
That leads Tony to a less comfortable topic, and he sighs. "You staying with family 'til then?" he asks soberly.
Ziva nods, even though she knows Tony can't see her. "Eli will expect me to play the dutiful daughter, at least for a few days."
"Do what you have to do, Z, but…" Tony doesn't finish the thought, sounding unhappy.
Ziva isn't any more excited about the prospect than Tony is, but the new nickname makes her smile. "I will be cautious, Tony," she vows softly.
"I know. And I know we've been over this. I just… I worry. You make me worry. How are you feeling?" The concern in Tony's voice is genuine and warm.
"I am ready." Ziva's confidence level has grown again and she's feeling bolstered.
Tony's smile is easy to hear. "I actually meant physically this time, but… glad to hear it. That's my badass little ninja!"
"Physically, I am also feeling much stronger now," she shares. "I have hardly had any pain today."
To anyone else, she might not admit to any pain or similar weakness at all, and Tony is able to appreciate her level of trust in him. "Good. You'll be ready to kick Eli's ass when you touch down in Tel Aviv."
Ziva laughs and, arriving at her new gate, she chooses a seat and settles in to wait. "I would have been able to kick an ass far earlier if not for the fact that I was confined to a hospital bed… it simply would not have been as much fun." She pauses for just a moment, enjoying the sound of Tony's amusement before sighing. "I have arrived at my gate, however, Tony. I really would like it if you went on to sleep."
"Do I have to?" he whines, mostly to be annoying, but the argument is undermined by a wide yawn at the end of the sentence.
"Yes." She smiles softly. "I will talk to you soon, alright?"
"Got it. Don't forget to text me so I know you got there safely—even if I'm asleep when I get it, at least I'll know when I wake up that you made it."
"I will."
"Thanks, Ziva. Have a good flight, and don't kick too many Israeli asses while I'm not there to see it."
"It is a deal. Good night, Tony. I love you." Saying those words still infuses Ziva with such a feeling of fortifying warmth, and in this moment, it hardly matters that they're on separate continents. She can close her eyes and imagine so easily that she's snuggled into his side, preparing to go to sleep herself.
"Love you, too. Good night."