Tony's POV:
I pulled up to the concrete in front of Ziva's apartment. I had anxiously waited at my desk, watching the seconds tick by on the clock, feeling like time had purposefully slowed down, just to antagonize me. Gibbs was nice enough to let me go an hour early, even though we had a fresh case, because he knew I was playing nurse for Ziva. I swear to God, that guy does not miss a thing. I grabbed the brown paper bag off the front seat and jumped onto the concrete sidewalk.
I knocked lightly on the door. "It's open!" called a surprisingly strong voice from inside. I opened the door. Ziva was lying on her couch, leaning on her elbow and staring out of the window. I knew that this must be driving out of her freaking mind. The Mossad assassin confined to a couch and pain meds. Wow. It was barely fathomable. I glanced at the counter and saw four different pill bottles. What the hell did they have her on?
"Quit staring." She said, obviously annoyed.
"Sorry."
Sigh. "It's okay."
She straightened and winced in pain. Instinctively, I dropped the bag I was holding and jogged to her side.
"I'm okay." She said in a small voice, laying her hand across her chest. "It just still hurts."
I sat down beside her. She then promptly laid her legs across me. I looked at her, eyebrows raised. She smiled. It seemed to lift a bit of weight off of my shoulders; like that smile let me know that she hadn't changed a bit.
"What did you bring in the bag?" she asked me suddenly.
"Just some stuff to make dinner with."
"Tony." She sighed. "You didn't have to. Takeout would have been just fine."
"Yeah, it would have been just fine." I put on my cheesiest Italian accent. "But-a DiNozzo's Special Recipe Spaghetti is more than-a 'just-a fine'. It is-a delicious."
She laughed, and then winced again. She ruffled my hair. "You dummy."
"Thank you."
Silence.
"Could you, um, pass me the green bottle on the table? I need to take one of those now." She put her head down, seeming slightly ashamed.
I grabbed the bottle and handed it to her, with a glass of water. She gulped it down, then made a face.
"Ughh. Nasty one."
"I hear ya."
I checked my watch: 7:45. "I'll start dinner."
I dug through her cabinets until I found a pot, and then threw some pasta in it. In another pan, I mixed vinegar, brown sugar, ketchup, and tomato sauce to make a nice sauce. "No beef." I noted to myself.
I pulled out two plates and put some pasta and sauce on it. I turned to look at Ziva, who was staring out the window again, the wind blowing her hair back. Damn, she's pretty, I thought suddenly. I then shook my head. Where the hell did that come from? She's my partner. My coworker, for god sakes!
I thought back to Paris so many months ago. I thought back to that sudden, electrical surge that ripped through my body when she kissed me. No woman, not even Jeanne, had ever given me that feeling. It zapped my nerves, and made me feel like I was the strongest man alive. I knew (and she knew) we were supposed to make love. We were supposed to be playing married couple. But it felt so real…
I shook my head again, sending my thoughts tumbling. "Dinner." I said, sitting on the couch next to Ziva. I handed her a plate, and she dug into it. "Tony, this is great!" she said after shoveling it down. "Thanks." I said through a mouthful. She giggled. I spotted some on the corner of her mouth. I wiped it away with my thumb. She flashed me a soft, gentle smile.
After dinner, we both sat on the couch, stuffed from the spaghetti. "Tony, it's a bit cold. Could you please grab a blanket from my room?" Ziva asked, yawning. "Sure." I stood up. I walked into her bedroom.
In her bedroom, there was one large, queen size bed. A small nightstand with a drawer stood beside it, which had nothing except for a lamp and a leather-bound journal on it. I looked at it. Ziva has a diary? I thought quietly to myself. I started to reach for it. Then I stopped, embarrassed by my actions. If Ziva did have a diary, that was her business. I grabbed the blanket off the bed and rushed into the living room before I was tempted to do anything else stupid.
"Thanks." She said as I laid it down on her. I sat beside her, also under it. She looked at me with raised eyebrows. I grinned. "I'm not gonna try anything."
"You try anything, and there will be a nine millimeter bullet embedded in your skull."
"Nice to know."
It was cold, and she snuggled up against me. My body tensed as she touched mine, sending the familiar shock through me. I fought to keep it under control. I looked over again, and she was fast asleep. I pulled the blanket over her, and I threw on my jacket. I watched her chest rise and fall rhythmically, and then drifted into sleep.
XXXXX
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Lots of Love,
Violet
On the small table beside her, I also noticed a roll of gauze.