A/N: Hi, long time no see! This time, I really have no real excuse except that my muse left the building for a while. Hope you are all well during this COVID-19 nonsense! If nothing else positive happens, at least quarantine has forced me to sit down and write, lol. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to my new friend Sofia, whose kindness is matched only by her writing skills! Without further ado, I present to you chapter twenty-two.
It's a 20 minute walk to the hotel or a five minute taxi ride; when Tony asks Ziva if she wants to ride, she snorts at him. "I am not one to shy away from exercise," she informs him, and he laughs.
"Want to do a little exercising with me tonight?" he asks suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.
She raises her own, pretending to misunderstand. "Is that not what we are doing now?" She gestures with their joined hands to the path they're walking on at a leisurely pace, clearly nowhere near breaking a sweat.
"I was thinking something a little more… active."
"Ah, you wish to go jogging with me? It is lovely to do on the beach, one of the few nice things about returning to Tel Aviv."
Tony laughs loudly, using their conjoined hands to tug her closer and then releasing her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Jogging. Sure. That's exactly what I meant."
Ziva wraps her own arm around Tony's waist, leaning in and feeling curiously drunk for someone who only had a single slowly-sipped glass of wine. "I cannot believe you are here," she replies, changing the subject.
"Good surprise, right?" Tony's tone is teasing, but when Ziva glances up at him, she can see that it's at least a partially serious question. He's nervous, she realizes, and he has no reason to be. She understands, though, that everything feels a little new again now that they've spent so much time apart.
"The best," she assures him. "I have always led a… solitary life, I suppose. I am not used to those I care for making an effort—not since Tali died, anyway." She says it matter-of-factly, not self-pitying at all, but Tony can't stop a flash of sadness on her behalf. She deserves better.
"You're just going to have to get used to it," he tells her with an I-don't-make-the-rules kind of shrug.
Ziva tightens her hold on him. "I will not have to get used to you visiting if I simply do not let you leave this time."
"That's one way to handle it. You'll have to fight Gibbs for me, though," he says in an arrogant tone, making her laugh. "I'm a hot commodity these days."
Ziva looks him up and down with a deliberately leering smirk. "Yes… hot is certainly the word I would use."
Tony grins. "Ziva! I'm scandalized. It's like you don't care about rule twelve at all."
"I am no longer at NCIS," Ziva reminds him, "so the rule no longer applies."
"Nonsense. You're just… taking a sabbatical. You'll be back." Tony squeezes her shoulders comfortingly.
"You sound awfully sure of yourself."
"You were pretty sure two months ago, too," he points out.
Ziva sighs. "I do not wish to talk about it."
"Okay," Tony agrees easily. He kisses her temple. "Let me pick a new subject—you mentioned the beach earlier, right? Just how often do you go? Do you wear a bikini when you do? What color might that bikini be?" The questions are rapidfire, one after another in a successful attempt to divert her mind from less pleasant things.
"I think it is better if we play show-and-smell, yes?" The answer comes with a snort.
"Show-and-tell," he corrects, wrinkling his face in an honest attempt not to make fun of her. She just makes it so hard, though! "And I'm happy to play with you as soon as we're not in public."
"Let us hurry to get somewhere private, then."
With no other warning, she's breaking away from him, sprinting toward his hotel. "I didn't mean this kind of exercise!" he whines, following in her footsteps as best as he can; she's fast, not that he'd ever admit it.
Reminiscent of the early days of their relationship, they barely make it in the hotel room with their clothes still on. So much on the walk involved teasing and it's been so long since they've touched one another that they're both a little desperate—luckily, Ziva changed into a dress to meet "Adam" at the restaurant, so little actually needs to come off before they can reunite in the way they both ache to.
They fuck once against the wall next to the door and once on the bed before tiring themselves out-for now.
Some time later, they lay naked in Tony's hotel sheets, tangled together and sweaty. Tony thinks privately that Ziva's previously-straight hair is getting wild from their perspiration and it itches a little where she rests on his chest, but he wouldn't tell her in a million years. He wants her to stay just where she is.
He draws lazy pictures on her back with his right forefinger, just reveling in the ability to touch her again. For now, there's nothing sexual about it.
In a similarly mindless fashion, Ziva pulls at one of Tony's chest hairs with her finger and thumb-she isn't using enough force to make it hurt, but it's enough to prickle, making him laugh out of reflex. "Subconsciously telling me you like your men less hairy?" he asks curiously, amused.
"Hmm?" She doesn't look up at him, making him wonder if she actually heard him at all.
"You still with me, Ziva?" he asks gently.
She does look up then, giving him a smile that doesn't really reach her eyes. "Yes."
"You seem a little… lost in thought there. Anything you'd like to share with the class?"
"With the class?" she parrots, momentarily confused.
Tony waves his free hand in a dismissive gesture. "Never mind. Anything you want to talk about?"
"Not really. I am just… thinking about how empty my bed will feel once you are gone again." A sad smile draws up her lips again, and she looks away, mildly uncomfortable as she so often is when admitting her feelings.
"You could come with me," Tony suggests mildly, and Ziva closes her eyes and snuggles in more.
"I believe you forget that I am not an American," she argues softly, not opening her eyes again. "I cannot simply come and go as I please like you do. I cannot stay indefinitely without NCIS as my work sponsor."
"We could change that—the whole not-an-American thing, I mean. We could get married."
She pops her head up at that, eyes wide. "What?"
Tony laughs at her expression and shrugs, not letting her move entirely out of his embrace. "People do it all the time."
"Get married? Who are you and what have you done with Tony DiNozzo?" Ziva demands.
Tony hadn't thought his suggestion was really that out there; he's been thinking about it on and off since Jenny Shepard showed up at Ziva's apartment and announced his partner's return to Israel. "It's just practical," he tells her.
"People do not get married because it is practical, Tony. They get married for love."
"Some of them do," he agrees slowly, surprised by her reaction, "and some get married for other reasons. My dad got married—how many times now? I've lost track—for money. Gibbs got married several times to forget his first family. I know people who have done it for the tax benefits. There's no reason we couldn't do it to allow you to stay in the country."
"I do not want a shotgun wedding."
Tony has to stifle a laugh again at that one. "Brownie points for trying there, Z, but shotgun weddings are the weddings that happen really quickly because the bride is pregnant. You're not, right?"
"No. I am not. What is the term for what you are suggesting, then?"
"Green card wedding, I guess. And I guess it's 'technically' illegal, but who's counting?" He makes air quotes behind her back to emphasize how little he cares for the technicality. Technically, the hacking McGee does all the time at work is borderline illegal, too, but that hasn't stopped them from doing it when necessary.
"Tony, you are a government official," Ziva points out, shocked that he'd be so cavalier about… all of this.
Tony shrugs as if to say the issue is of no importance.
"Anyway, I thought you were afraid of commitment," she continues when the most recent argument doesn't work.
He sighs. "Maybe a little. I used to be, anyway. But I just went without sex for two months for you, and if that's not a commitment, I don't know what is."
Ziva gives him a scathing look. "Romantic, Tony."
He rolls his eyes. "It was just an idea. I wasn't, like, getting down on one knee or anything. It wouldn't be a real marriage. It would just be a way to bring you back to NCIS."
She wrinkles her nose at him and lays her head back down on his chest, clearly dismissing the conversation as one that's barely worth her time, not worth the effort of making eye contact. "If I ever marry, it will not be for a green card," she tells him softly. "It will be because I love the person I am marrying."
Tony sighs. "I guess I messed up the delivery of that idea—I didn't mean to offend you. To set the record straight, just because I was proposing a bit of a sham marriage doesn't mean it wouldn't be done out of love. I do love you, very much—you know that by now, I hope. And I want to keep you around. I just don't know about the whole institution of marriage as, I don't know, an emotional thing, I guess. I've seen too many people go into it with good intentions and strong feelings and get hurt so badly when it goes wrong."
Ziva lightly kisses his chest and looks up at him one more time. "I am not demanding a real marriage," she clarifies gently, "and marriage does not always go wrong. It can be a beautiful thing, I believe... But I will find my own way back to Washington regardless. I am more than content with the relationship we have now—in fact, I am very happy with it." She beams at him suddenly and it takes his breath away. "And Tony?"
"Mm?"
"I know you love me, and I love you for it. Thank you for trying."
Tony smiles back at her, thinking that offering a green card wedding is so little a sacrifice to make in return for getting her to smile like that.
The next day is Shabbat—the Sabbath, as Ziva reminds Tony—and he's amazed at how the country shuts down. Most things are closed, the buses and trains don't run, and observant Jews don't do any work, including driving. "Welcome to the Holy Land," Ziva tells him with a little laugh.
"Why do you drive on Shabbat?" he wants to know; they're climbing into her car as he speaks.
"It has been a long time since I was truly observant," she replies, and that seems to be all she is willing to say on the subject.
They make a day trip to Jerusalem—it's only an hour away, and Ziva wants to show Tony the best of her small country. She snorts with laughter as she has to tug him away from gaping at the black-hatted men praying at the Western Wall— "I thought that was just a movie thing," he tells her, wanting to watch more.
"It is not," she corrects in response, "and you are being offensive. Come, there is more to see."
They wander the city—there are plenty of Muslims, Christians, Atheists, and non-observant Jews, and the heart of the city is bustling as usual. Ziva leads Tony through the never-ending marketplace, having him try this and that as they go. He complains that he's absolutely stuffed and can't eat another bite—at least until she gives him another thing to try.
When the sun goes down, the observant Jews rejoin the chaos, and Tony finds himself impressed as he immerses his full attention in a Middle Eastern city for the first time. He's been on trips to this region before, but they were always on official business; they consisted of completing missions and getting the hell out. This trip is different, and that's almost entirely because of the gorgeous woman pulling him this way and that. He finds that he's happy here and he wants to learn more about everything he sees.
Of course, that doesn't stop him from eagerly agreeing when Ziva suggests that they return to Tel Aviv and more importantly the hotel room that has become theirs; the hour-long drive is made much longer by Tony's hand rubbing higher and higher up Ziva's thigh as they go. She half-heartedly tells him to stop so she can focus on driving but she also complains when he listens.
That night, they snuggle and watch a movie in bed… they could almost be back in one of their apartments in Washington if not for the fact that the movie is in Hebrew with English subtitles. Everything feels so easy right now that even the ticking clock doesn't bother them for the time being… they both know that Tony has to leave in a few short days, they just don't care.
That ends in the wee hours of the morning when Ziva wakes up screaming. The noise wakes Tony, too, and he immediately leaps up to assess the threat; he quickly realizes that it's just Ziva thrashing in the bed, and he hastens to wake her. "Hey! Hey, it's me, it's Tony. It's just a dream, Z. You're fine, it's all good. Wake up. Come on, easy now."
Slowly, she comes to, though the screaming gives way to tears. Alarmed, Tony tries to pull her against his chest, but she pushes him away urgently in order to run to the toilet, almost not making it before getting sick. "Ziva?" Tony follows her to the bathroom but moves more slowly, unsure of whether his presence will help or hurt; he certainly doesn't want to crowd her. "Are you alright?"
She shakes her head, still not speaking as tears course down her cheeks. She stands back up, though, and uses the hotel-provided mouthwash to clean up. Only then does she speak, and it's halting when she does. "Bad dream," she murmurs. She pads to where Tony is hovering uncertainly in the doorway and settles into his open arms.
"I figured from the way you woke me up by bursting my eardrums," Tony replies uncomfortably. "Do you want to talk about it?" He's still a little thrown off by how much this has thrown Ziva off—she's usually so stoic.
"We should go back to bed," Ziva says instead of really answering. She pulls away and moves silently back to her side of the large hotel bed, climbing in and pulling the covers up to her chin before rolling to face pointedly away from Tony.
He hesitates again, trying to remember how to do all of this… and in the end, he curls up against her back, resting his forehead against the back of her shoulder and hoping she doesn't simply turn around and punch him. "What happened, Z? Must've been bad to shake you up like that."
He realizes that she's quivering and sighs, pulling her more definitively back against him. "I dreamed about a plane crash, your plane home," she answers finally, her voice rough, "I dreamed that it crashed right after taking off so it was on Israeli soil and the investigation was Mossad responsibility, and… there were no survivors. My father forced me to look at all of the charred bodies until I found yours. Then he pushed me to my knees next to you—I could smell your burning skin. He said to me, 'look at what happens to those who oppose me, Ziva. Is that what you want for yourself? Let this be a lesson.' Then he just walked away and left me next to you, and I knew there was nothing I could do to save you, nothing I could do to save myself."
Tony waits a few beats to make sure Ziva's really finished talking before sitting up and rolling her gently on her back to look at him. He fights down to urge to simply joke away all of these heavy feelings; he knows that's not what she needs right now, though he wouldn't be Tony DiNozzo if he didn't at least joke a little. "First," he starts, gentle but firm, "the Ziva David I know and love would never go down without a fight. Even if her super sexy, hilarious, extremely charming boyfriend suddenly died a tragic death…" He does let a little teasing into his voice at that last, and he reaches out to cup her face and wipe some of her tears away.
She gives him a hint of a smile, and he latches onto the hope he sees there. "There we go! That's what I like to see. Second, I would like to point out that for now, your wildly attractive, classically handsome, very funny boyfriend is still alive 'n kickin'. Eli might have the upper hand in a lot of situations here, but I seriously doubt he'd bring a plane down just to get rid of me."
"You really think very highly of yourself, yes?" she mumbles at him, her tiny smile growing, and he realizes with relief that she's coming back from whatever dark place that nightmare took her to.
"I was just stating the facts, my dear," he replies pompously, and she whacks him with surprising force. "Ow!" he cries. "What was that for?"
"You were describing someone so perfect," she muses, sitting up on her elbows to get closer to him. "I had to see if you were real."
He laughs hard, leaning in to kiss her. She returns it with a sigh, relaxing some and letting out most of the tension that she's still holding in her torso. "Thank you," she murmurs when they come up for air.
"Any time," he replies genuinely, and he can't help teasing her more: "but you didn't have to hit me that hard."
"Sorry," she tells him insincerely.
He just laughs at her, shaking his head. "Bad dream all chased away?"
"For the most part. I just wish I could chase away the scent of… well, I told you what I was smelling."
To Ziva's surprise, Tony lights up. "Oh, but you can!" He hops out of bed, looking like a child and making her laugh. He rifles through some papers on the room's built-in desk.
"What are you doing?"
"Aha! Here it is." He holds something up and beams at her. "Room service menu."
Ziva laughs until her sides hurt. "Tony, it is the middle of the night."
"I know!"
"I do not believe they will be serving food at this hour."
Tony gives her a grin that quickly turns into a leer. "They have a limited all-night menu, which is one of the reasons I booked this particular hotel. I wanted a place that would send me whipped cream if I needed it at 3am."
Ziva knows where he's going with this, but she loves him enough to take the bait anyway. "And why would you need whipped cream at 3am?"
He leans in and kisses her nose. "To lick off of you, of course."
Ziva gives a sultry chuckle—she knows he's worried about her, and she'll give him what he wants especially because she knows it'll assuage his well-meaning anxiety. "I prefer to be the one doing the licking."
Tony's eyes darken and he kisses her again quickly. "Be my guest." Despite his words, though, he goes back to the room service menu and calls down for a chocolate lava cake. He meant it when he said he intended to give her something pleasant to smell. The intent means more to her than the simple cake ever could.
She reaches out a hand to draw him back into the bed when he's done, and he comes willingly. "I love you," she tells him softly once he's close again.
With a warm smile, Tony drops his face down to her shoulder, giving her a kiss. "Love you, too. But you know that."
"I do, but it is nice to hear sometimes."
"I'll say it as often as you want."
Ziva suddenly snorts with laughter, and Tony sits up a little more to look at her suspiciously. "What's so funny?"
"I just imagined… if you really said it as often as I want, you would have to interrupt everything my father says to yell it like the obnoxious boyfriend you are."
The image makes Tony laugh, too. "He would murder me himself within about five minutes, I think."
"I do not believe it would take even that long!"
"He's a pretty impatient guy, isn't he?"
Ziva chuckles again, very comforted by now. "Perhaps even more so than Gibbs."
When the cake comes, Tony tips the room service boy handsomely and brings the confectionary to Ziva, still wrapped in sheets and beaming at him. The cake is delicious, or at least they think it is from the small amount they actually eat… most of it is lost to a spontaneous food fight. Tony thinks with no regrets about the charge for ruined sheets that'll certainly be appearing soon on his credit card.
Between the nightmare and the subsequent room service, the night is not a restful one, and both Ziva and Tony sleep later than usual the following morning.
They're awoken by the sound of Ziva's phone ringing, and she grabs it hesitantly; they're both still waiting for her father to find out that Tony is visiting and do something about it. His silence alone is a little ominous, but it's not Eli or one of his lackeys on this phone this time. She answers in Hebrew, smiling, and talks for long enough that Tony gives up on trying to figure out what she's discussing until he hears his name and looks up; Ziva puts the phone to her chest as he does. "It is Adam calling," she responds to his wordless question. "He wants to know if we would like to have a late breakfast with him. I told him I would ask you."
Tony sees in her expression how torn she is; as much as she doesn't want to share the short time she has with him, she also wants him to meet her oldest friend. It's that desire that leads him to nod his ascent despite having the same reservations his girlfriend does. He owes much of this visit to Adam's assistance, and he is curious to finally meet the other man.
He knows he's made the right decision when Ziva's face lights up and she brings her phone back to her ear, letting Adam know in rapidfire Hebrew what they've decided. Then she kisses Tony quickly and goes to take a shower. He wants to follow and she seems to know that, because she turns back and points a finger at him to say "we do not have time now, Tony. Get ready. We can take another shower later."
Tony laughs and does as told, and twenty minutes later, they're leaving the hotel hand-in-hand. She excitedly tells him as they catch a taxi to meet Adam at a restaurant on the beach about growing up alongside her friend. Tony's never seen her like this, and he's not sure what to make of it; it's clear that Adam means a great deal to her. He knows better than to be jealous, though, or at least he hopes he does. She's never given him any reason to doubt her affections for him, even when he knows he hasn't given her the same courtesy.
When they enter the restaurant and Ziva sees Adam, though, any lingering worries fade immediately. Ziva is undeniably fond of the man—evidenced by the way she rushes to hug him—but the way she treats him comes across as almost familial. Tony also gets the idea that she's not usually so outwardly affectionate, either, because Adam laughs in surprise and hugs her back. The look Adam then gives him makes him feel almost… proud. It makes him think that the way Ziva is behaving is mostly because of him.
"Ah, you must be Tony. It is nice to finally meet you in person," Adam says in a friendly way, holding out a hand to be shaken.
Tony accepts it. "Likewise," he says gruffly, shaking the other man's hand.
They sit down together and Tony immediately figures out why Ziva likes Adam so much—he's a very charismatic man. He finds himself laughing as the younger man lets out a tale of Ziva destroying a playground bully at the tender age of 7. She blushes at the story, but doesn't back down— "he deserved it," she insists grumpily, and her ornery demeanor and tone set both men off in hysterics again.
Ziva gives as good as she gets, though, and she has a few stories to share at Adam's expense, too. Tony finds all of this very amusing until, smirking, she lets out an unflattering (and unfortunately true) tale concerning Tony and a too-clever sex worker whose help he needed on a case.
They linger with Adam after breakfast for long enough that Tony starts to feel better about leaving Ziva here in Israel alone… because she's not alone, not really. Adam is her family, too, the only kind that matters.
"Z, can you go catch us a cab?" Tony asks when they're saying goodbyes.
"You are not coming with me?" she clarifies, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"I'll be out in a minute," he assures her.
"Mm… alright." Ziva looks as if she doesn't entirely trust her friend and her boyfriend to be alone together, but she reluctantly concedes. "Shalom, Adam. I will see you next weekend, yes?"
"Shalom, Ziva. 'Til Saturday."
They kiss each others' cheeks and then Ziva leaves. Adam sticks his hands in his pockets and looks at Tony expectantly. "You'll take care of her, right?" Tony asks once he's sure Ziva is out of earshot.
Adam laughs and starts to speak, but Tony cuts him off. "I don't mean physically. I know she can take care of herself. But, like, emotionally, you know? Don't let her dad get to her. I worry about her way more when I know she's under his thumb."
Adam nods. "I understand. I will. For what it is worth, however, I believe she would be angry with you if she knew you asked."
Tony laughs. "Fiercely independent, that one, isn't she?"
"Much like a housecat, yes," Adam agrees, laughing, too. "I will not tell her what you said."
"I appreciate that." Tony sticks a hand out, and they shake for the second time today. "Glad she has you, and thanks again for all your help in planning this visit."
"It was my pleasure. Ziva is not someone who is prone to happiness, but… she relaxes with you. Probably more so than you realize. And she laughs more. It is good to see."
The last few days together pass blissfully but quickly, and before they know it, Ziva and Tony are saying goodbye at the airport again.
Tony, tired of this whole routine, keeps up a steady stream of stupid jokes on the way to Ben Gurion, always ready to avoid any negative emotions that might arise. His flight is "stupid early", as he tells Ziva, so they never bother to go to sleep the night before. Instead, they make love one last time for now in the wee hours of the morning, getting their fill of one another while they still can.
Ziva finally shuts him up in the departures hall by rolling her eyes, shaking her head, and kissing him. "Sure you don't want to come with me?" he can't help asking one last time when they part.
"You know the answer to that," Ziva says uncomfortably, sighing and dropping her head to Tony's chest to avoid his gaze.
"Had to try, didn't I?" Tony kisses her forehead with a sigh, wrapping her up tight. "I just hate leaving you. And I hate leaving you here even more."
"I know. Believe me, Tony, I know." She nestles in, wishing like Tony does that they don't have to say goodbye. "I will see you soon." The question of when, of course, is one they can't answer right now.
"I don't know, Ziva. I have a bad feeling about parting ways this time," Tony admits darkly. "I can't explain it, but… I'm worried."
"You have no reason to be."
Tony grunts instead of answering because they've had this argument several times in the last few days and he knows they won't get any further with it this time. "I love you," he says finally, because he knows he has to go.
"I love you, too. You will let me know when your plane lands?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die," he promises, and laughs when she looks up and frowns at him when she hears it. "It's an expression," he adds. "Just means I promise."
"Good, because I will not allow you to die," Ziva replies sternly, kissing Tony's nose suddenly enough to make him sneeze and laughing. "Go on. You should not miss your flight."
"I'm going, I'm going." Tony kisses her forehead, both of her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips, holding onto her as she tries to squirm away from him. "Bye, Z. Love you."
"You have already said that part." When Tony looks wounded, Ziva presses lightly on his shoulder, laughing more. "Okay, okay, I love you, too. Now go."
"Yes, ma'am." Go he does, hoping that he's wrong… because right now, he has the feeling that something horrible will happen before they meet again. He doesn't know what it is, but he's worked with Gibbs for too long to ignore his gut.
He tries very hard not to think as he boards his plane that maybe he's seen Ziva for the last time.