sorry sorry sorrryyyyy. I know there's no excuse but i'm going to give you mine anyway. it's been a crazy few weeks not to mention i have a touch of the first-week-of-school-blues, and now i'm sick, so this is coming to you live from my bed.
So i have a question for all you book nerds out there, i've decided to do Stephen King as my author in english this semester but amazingly enough, in all my years as a total book worm i have never actually read any of his stuff. Any ideas or thoughts on good books i should read would be lovely (:
Disclaimer: Still wishing they were mine.
Tony was confused. It had been a week since Ziva's appointment and something was different. He knew she wasn't better, he could still see the hurt, but that had always been there. It was as if she had pushed away the events of the past few weeks and rebuilt the walls, twice as strong as before. He had tried to talk to her in the parking lot that afternoon but she had blown him off, breezing through his tentative questions with short, confident answers of "it was fine Tony" and "I'm fine." For the past week he had been trying to catch her alone, hoping that she would show him a little of what was going on in her head, but she always seemed to be caught up in the case or some other handy excuse that got her out of being alone with him. He had even driven to her house one night, only to find that she had driven back to work because she had thought of something that might help them catch the latest killer.
He leaned back on his chair, running a hand through his messy hair. To his right Ziva was perched on McGee's desk, engrossed in animated conversation, most likely about Tim's most recent girlfriend who they had never seen although, according to their cyber-savvy team member, somehow seemed to out geek even McGee himself. Oh most definitely imaginary, Tony thought to himself as he watched Ziva's perfectly straight hair slide around her back while she talked. It had been a long time since he taken in her looks, tending to concentrate more on what had been going on in her head, but this week he had seen her armour go up not only mentally, but physically as well. Her hair always in place and her make-up immaculate, if it hadn't been for the telltale bags under her eyes, or the way her shoulders slumped slightly more than they used to, he would never have known something was off.
He watched her stand and move quickly to her own desk as Gibbs swept into the room, and was broken from his thoughts, startled by the loud thump of case files being dumped onto his desk.
She could tell Tony was getting frustrated. Ever since her decision a week ago, she had been trying to get things back to the way they should be, but he was not making that easy. Preferring to corner her every chance he got, attempting to pull emotions from her the way a dentist would pull a tooth. It was hard not to let go, she wanted to tell him but she could not risk him seeing her as weak, she couldn't let him see that side of her. She had shown too much already. Ziva knew it was probably better for her to share her feelings, the same way the tooth needed to come out, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt when it did and she was afraid the pain would be too much for her. She wouldn't let him see her fall apart. Not again.
She didn't notice Tony mimicking her actions as she picked up her bag, throwing it over her shoulder and rounding her desk to the elevator. She didn't look over her shoulder to call goodnight, knowing her and Tony were the only ones left in the building, so she didn't see him packing up his things and following her to the elevator.
She covered it well, but he noticed her startle when he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. After entering the elevator, rather than turning to the doors, she had leant her forehead against the back wall a stance that even from behind Tony could recognise as exhaustion. Ziva straightened visibly as she turned to him, "Tony, I'm fi-"
He cut off her automatic response to his careful touch. There was no way he was listening to I'm fine anymore, by now he was sure it was more of a reflex than an actual feeling.
"You aren't fine." He said it simply and seriously, like a mother telling her child that power sockets weren't for playing with. Not a question, but a statement; he wasn't going to let her avoid it anymore. "Ziva, you can pretend all you like but you didn't even notice me behind you until I touched you. That isn't the old Ziva. No matter how hard you try to be her, you aren't. Not now, maybe not ever, but you aren't going to get any closer by ignoring what is happening."
Looking at her tired face he could see pieces of hair falling into her face and her eye make-up was slightly smudged where she had rubbed a weary hand over them at some point during the afternoon. But more than that, there was something in her eyes, a look of complete resignation he had never seen before and her walls, before made of brick, were now fragile as a house of cards, ready to crumble at the touch of a feather. The higher the house grew the more unstable it became and now, each small step she talk towards him in the tiny space was another card on the already teetering castle.
Then he took a leap of faith and hoped that his arms around her would be the breath that brought the whole thing down. It was time for her to breathe again, and she couldn't if she was worried that her exhale would bring down the walls.
So, what do we all thinkkkk? want to let me know? okay thanks.
and also, sorry for any grammatical errors or spelling, or really just any bad writing. i feel fairly crap and my head's a little messed up but i felt i really needed to get something up. i can't wait to hear what you think :)