Ziva was nearly asleep, her head resting on the edge of the tub. The warm water helped sooth the aches that plagued her body, but also helped to relax her to the point where she could barely stay awake. She kept telling herself that she would only stay in a little longer, for fear of drowning, but she didn't want to get out and face the cold chill of the house.
She could hear Gibbs' voice from downstairs, bellowing, "Ziva! You've been in the tub for two hours! Dinner's almost done!" not really wanting to hear it, she let her head fall into the water just enough to plug her ears
A few minutes later, Ducky slipped into the bathroom, knocking in the doorway, "Sorry to interrupt your bath, dear." he piled a few towels on the counter, "These are fresh and warm from the dryer. I thought you might like something clean to dry off with. Jethro rarely does laundry, so don't get used to the luxury of clean towels." he chuckled, "Dinner just came out; we're having beef stew. I would advise getting out before yours gets too cold. Its good hot, and tolerable cold, but lukewarm stew is absolutely dreadful!" he left quietly, leaving her to bathe in privacy
Groaning, she sat up and reached to pull the drain. Suddenly dizzy, she lay back again, letting her vision come back into focus. "Maybe just another minute..."
A cool spray of water hit Ziva in the face. The shower had been turned on and the stream was aimed directly at her. She jumped up, startled. She hadn't realized that she'd fallen asleep, "Stop it! I am awake already!" the water changed from cool to hot very quickly, much to her discontent, "Turn off the water!"
The curtain pulled back, "Ziva? You're still in here? Get out!" Tony tossed her a towel, "I've been waiting for like three hours, I'm getting a shower, whether you're in here or not!" he stripped down, getting under the stream, "Stay or go, your choice!"
Ziva looked a him with disgust, climbing out as fast as she could. She resisted the strong urge to take a peek. She's seen it all before, but still...Tony closed the curtain behind her, content to have the shower to himself. Just for spite, on her way out the door, she flushed the toilet. She lingered near the door just long enough to hear the screams, "Ah! Ziva! Not funny!"
She strongly disagreed
She barely made it to her room, Gibbs' room actually, before collapsing on the bed. She felt boneless and drained, not wanting to do anything more than just lie there until noon the next day. She could hear footsteps outside the door. Seeing as she was wearing only a towel still, she quickly covered herself with some of the blankets.
Gibbs pushed open the door, peering in cautiously. He was beginning to worry about her, "Ziva? You awake?" he set a bowl of reheated stew and a cup of water down on the nightstand. Slipping an arm around her middle, he helped her to sit up. He handed her a little cup of medicine, "Here, drink that. It should help."
She pushed the cup away, "Gibbs, I do not need or want it. I think the bath did me good. I am no longer wheezing and my fever is gone." not buying it, he felt her brow, which was hot enough to cook an egg on, "Alright, I feel like hell." she admitted, "But I am not drinking that."
"Oh, yes you are!" Gibbs captured both her wrists in one hand, pinning her arms high above her head. With his free hand, he balanced the cup while pinching down on her nose. He knew she wouldn't be able to hold her breath for long, at least not if she was ill, and when she opened her mouth to breathe, he poured the thick purple syrup down her throat. She sputtered and gagged a bit, making him feel a bit guilty about forcing it on her, "Trust me. You'll be grateful for it when you're better in a few days instead of spending the holidays in a hospital."
She guzzled the glass of water, desperate to get the taste out of her mouth, "It tastes like boot polish!" she protested, gargling the water in her mouth, trying to wash away the taste. She sighed, lying back on the soft bed. Experience told her that the medication would probably put her to sleep before long.
"And how exactly do you know that?" he laughed. This was one of those things that simply had to have a story behind it
"I spent two years in the Army. Just like in your military, there are certain initiations, or in my case, punishments for unsubordination. Some are less pleasant than others." she smiled a bit, remembering the rather embarrassing moment when her commanding officer forced her to brush her teeth with boot polish for talking back at him
Gibbs grinned, "Bet that was fun." he handed her the bowl, "Here, eat up. You haven't eaten all day, you're going to need some nutrition if you want to get better."
She sat up, pulling the blankets around herself to hide her naked form, "Thank you." she took a few bites before putting the bowl back on the nightstand, "It is good."
"You need to eat more than that, Ziva," Gibbs handed it back to her, but she promptly refused
"If I try to eat any more, I will not be able to keep down what I've already eaten." she insisted, "Thank you, Gibbs. For everything."
"Okay," he gathered up the dishes and medicine, "When you get hungry, there's plenty of food downstairs. Help yourself."
Tony toweled off, wandering upstairs to the Master bedroom. He knew he should give Ziva her space, especially if she wasn't feeling well, but he wanted to check up on her. He peeked inside, "Hey, Ziva? You awake?" he called softly.
Hearing no answer, he let himself in. The room had an almost tropical feel to it; it was warm, humid and dark. But to his sick partner, it was probably quite comfortable, "Hey, I'm sorry about the shower thing." he sat on her bed, "Feeling any better?"
"Go away, Tony," she growled. Her body was draped half-way over the edge of the bed. He gently rolled her over, back toward the middle, "I just want to sleep..."
He noticed the trash bin by the bed was full of bile, "I take it dinner didn't stick with you?" she shook her head, "The I'm guessing your medicine didn't either?" he felt her warm brow, "Nope. You know what?"
"What?" she mumbled, not really wanting to be bothered
"I think you're sick." he wrapped her tightly in the covers, "I'll run downstairs, and get you some Tylenol, okay?" he was gone before she could protest.
He returned quickly, pills in hand. The first thing he noticed was Ziva's absence. A few seconds later, she reappeared from in the bathroom, wiping at her mouth. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had just happened. He handed her a tall glass of milk, "Here, did you take that medicine with food before?" he asked
"A few bites of that strange stew," she swallowed the pills, draining the glass in a few gulps, "I did not think Gibbs could cook, and that...abomination confirmed it."
"I liked it." Tony told her, a bit offended by her dismissal of what he thought was a nice diner, "Your senses are a bit off though. It happens when you're sick," he raised his hands, cutting off her protests, "And yes, you are sick."
She groaned, "So what if I am? Am I not allowed?"
"You're allowed, but I don't like it," he turned off the light so she could rest, "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve. Everyone's coming over to decorate, make cookies, all that jazz." the more he thought about it, the more he was looking forward to it. He hadn't actually enjoyed Christmas in a very long time, "And of course there's presents, cheesy holiday specials, and of course, nice hard eggnog."
Ziva laughed, "That is just what we need. Drunken Federal Agents burning down the kitchen on Christmas Eve. I suppose that would keep away the fat, jolly, pedophile gift bearer, yes?"
"Yeah," he laughed, "Sleep tight Ziva. Watch out, Santa's watching you..." he began to sing quietly under his breath on his way out, in a slow haunting monotone, "He sees you when you're sleeping...he knows when you're awake..."
The tune sent shivers down Ziva's spine. "Tony!" she grabbed her pillow and tossed it at him. It landed a few feet shy of the target, landing in the doorway, "That is incredibly creepy, stop it!"
"Heh, sorry." he actually was; he knew he should be a bit more merciful to her, considering she was ill. Tormenting those less fortunate hardly embodied the Christmas spirit. He returned her pillow turned projectile, "You need anything?"
"No, just sleep." she lay back, closing her eyes, "What do you want for Christmas Tony?"
He thought about it long and hard. By the time he'd come up with anything resembling an answer, she was already sound asleep. Honestly, he didn't want anything for Christmas. What more could he possibly want? He had a nice apartment, expensive clothing, possibly every movie known to man, and better yet, indisputable friendship. What else could you ask for? "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."