Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
Friday, 5 July 2013
Tony didn't sleep well.
News that Eddie Hertzog had been arrested the night before had provided him with some level of relief and assurance that he didn't need to be on watchdog duty over his partner all night. But while Ziva had slept deeply (and then fitfully, and then deeply, and then fitfully) beside him, Tony had passed the darkest hours of the night trying to pull himself together, only to fall into rage, fear and panic over and over again. He wanted to be calm about things. He was a cop, and he knew how to keep his cool and compartmentalize. Not to the level that six-time Olympic gold medalist in compartmentalization Ziva David could achieve, but he could do it. Just not that night. Whether it was because he'd reached his tolerance level for the number of times Ziva had almost died, or because she'd brought up what had happened in Somalia and it triggered his own unresolved issues about that time, Tony wasn't sure. All he knew was that he passed six hours freaking out, pulling himself together, drifting off to sleep and then startling awake when he had some kind of nightmare that he couldn't quite remember. After he got himself together again, he'd poke Ziva awake, make her answer a few questions to prove that she didn't have a head injury, and then start the process all over again.
Some time before dawn he'd managed to silence his mind for long enough to get some quality sleep for an hour or two. He woke up around 0700 feeling mentally and emotionally wrecked, and all he wanted to do was roll over and sleep for another eight hours. But the absence of warmth and weight beside him woke him up as fast as his nightmares had. He looked across the pillow at the vacant space where Ziva had been, and his heart started pounding with worry. Somehow Ziva had slipped away without disturbing him. Even with a busted shoulder and a sore head she was still impressively and maddeningly stealthy.
He got up as fast as his creaking bones and aching joints would allow, and then crossed to the en suite. Ziva wasn't there, so he left the room and walked with a slight limp down the hallway towards the stairs. The door to McGee's bedroom was closed just like always, and Tony couldn't hear any movement beyond. He rubbed his eyes before tackling the staircase, and once on the ground floor he poked his head into the living and dining rooms to check for any signs of life. They were empty, so he continued to the kitchen. The sunny room was a bit much for his eyes so early, but he blinked away the discomfort and looked around. Ziva wasn't there, but she or possibly McGee had been recently. A full cup of coffee sat beside the machine, there was a pot boiling on the stove, and the smell of toast filled the room. He noticed that the back door to the yard was open, and when he leaned over the sink to look out the window he saw Ziva bending over by a pot of herbs, scissors in her left hand and her right strapped by her stomach in her sling. She looked perfectly healthy from this distance and not at all in distress, and Tony felt himself relax.
Everything's fine, he reminded himself. Take it easy and stop panicking.
He walked over to the open door and stood on the top step overlooking the yard. The sunlight warmed him through the t-shirt and jeans he'd fallen asleep in, and for a moment he considered curling up on the stoop like a damn cat. He had a feeling that might be all he could handle today.
"Morning," he called to Ziva.
Ziva turned and brushed her wildly curly hair back over her shoulder to look up at him. The bruises on her face and neck had gotten deeper overnight, but she didn't seem bothered. She turned a smile on him that made his eyebrows rise. It was the kind of smile she'd only ever seen her bestow upon Schmiel. Warm, open affection. He didn't think he'd ever seen her apparently so pleased to see him. It made his belly tingle.
"Good morning," she returned, her voice just as raspy as the previous night. She came towards him with a few sprigs of chives clutched in her hand with the scissors. "You have good timing."
He didn't know what she was talking about. "I usually hear the opposite." He stepped aside as she climbed the steps, and then followed her into the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore," she admitted. "But I took a painkiller this morning, so it does not matter." She waved the hand still holding the scissors through the air dismissively, and Tony wondered if by 'a' painkiller she actually meant two or three. Then he wondered if that was the reason she'd smiled so warmly at him. He tried not to, but he couldn't help feeling disappointed.
"Just one?" he asked, and then threw her an easy smile to hide his mood.
"Half," she revised down, surprising him. "I do not feel as stiff as I did when I woke up. And my head is not thumping as much." She carried the scissors and chives over to a chopping board by the stove, and then reached for the cup of coffee. She surprised him again by handing it over to him. "Here. Breakfast is almost ready."
Tony took the cup, looked down at it in confusion, and looked back at her. "You're making breakfast?"
On cue the toaster popped, and Ziva took the pot off the boil. "Yes."
"For me?" he hedged.
"Yes," she said again, seemingly amused by his disbelief.
"One-handed?"
She gave him a playful once-over. "I can do all the important things one-handed, Tony."
He stared back at her dumbly. What the hell kind of Bizarro World had he woken up in this morning? Last night she had almost died, and she let him know how shaken and panicked she was. This morning she was all sunny smiles, snipping fresh herbs and making breakfast. It bothered him. It wasn't right. She was sweeping it all under the rug. And although he'd expected it, he needed it to stop.
He put his coffee down and stepped over to her. "Ziva."
"Eggs Benedict on toast," she told him. "I hope you do not mind that there is no bacon."
"Ziva, I don't know if this is nervous energy or not, but you don't have to worry about Eddie Hertzog," he told her, getting to the crux of the issue he believed was bothering her. "He was arrested last night, so—"
"Yes, McGee told me this morning before he left to go running," she said. She looked over her shoulder to give him a relived smile. "It is good news."
Tony frowned as he hovered by her elbow and watched her slide a poached egg onto toast. She reached for another pot of homemade hollandaise sauce and poured it over the egg, then sprinkled some of the chopped chives she'd gotten from the garden on top. It looked and smelled pretty good, and Tony's stomach rumbled with interest. But breakfast could wait for a moment.
"Why are you so chirpy this morning?" he asked, walking the line between knowing and argumentative.
Ziva turned to face him, holding his breakfast plate in her hands. "Because it is a beautiful day outside and Eddie Hertzog will not have the opportunity to experience it," she replied. She thrust the plate towards him. Tony took it, but then placed it on the kitchen island beside his cup of coffee.
"Okay, but stuff happened yesterday—"
"Tony," she sighed.
"And I know you, so I know you probably want to just lock it away and move on," he continued. "But I don't think—"
"I am not locking it away," she insisted, and her smile finally dropped to reveal her frustration. But the frustration was aimed at him, and although he understood it, Tony didn't like it. "Tony, I am trying to thank you. Just let me make you breakfast."
His frown deepened. "Thank me for what?" he asked. "McGee was the one who dealt with the police and harassed them until they arrested Eddie."
Ziva nodded along. "Yes, and I will thank him as well," she said. "But you also deserve…" She trailed off then and became suddenly and visibly uncomfortable with her words. Her hand ghosted over her throat before continuing higher to push her curls back from her face, and she looked momentarily self-conscious and indecisive before throwing it away with a shake of her head. He watched the procession of emotion with fascination right up to the point where she stepped in to press herself against him and wrap her free arm around his neck. Tony stooped down just far enough so she didn't have to overstretch herself and hugged her back. She pressed her cheek against his, and although he expected her to just give him a squeeze and then pull back, she didn't. She stayed hugging him while she spoke quietly into his neck.
"Tony, it is important to me that you know how grateful I am for you," she said, and although her voice broke, he was pretty sure that was due to her neck injury. Either way, it brought unexpected tears to his eyes. "I cannot do any of this without you," she went on. "You are my best friend, and I know you doubt me on that sometimes—you have every reason to—but you are the most important person in the world to me."
He wasn't sure whether they were thinking the same thing, but there was something about her delivery that made him recall they argument they'd had when he discovered she had slept with Adam in Israel. In that moment he'd felt so…discarded. So painfully unnecessary to her. He knew her actions weren't as black and white as his hurt had tried to convince him they were, and over the last few months he'd been able to find some peace with it. Their conversation the other night, where she had gone to great lengths (admittedly after he had pushed her) to make it clear that he had an important place in her life, helped him get over it as well. And he didn't know if that was what she was getting at with all this talk, or whether she was simply responding to the fear of last night, or if she was thinking about something else entirely. But as of now, he was letting the Adam thing go. He knew where he stood, and it was where he wanted to be.
He dropped his head to kiss her temple. "Back at you, sweetcheeks."
He supposed he should have let go of her then. But it felt too nice to be standing there and embracing her. Ziva made no move to disentangle herself either, so they stayed like that for a few more seconds, warm and close and grateful for each other.
Eventually Ziva pulled back and gave him her familiar close-lipped smile. "Thank you for being there last night," she told him.
He shook his head. "You don't need to thank me."
"I do," she pressed. "I know I have taken you for granted at times. I need to stop doing that."
He appreciated it, but he worried. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, Ziva," he said, and rubbed her back gently. "And I know you're telling me this because of my little meltdown the other night."
"I am telling you because I need you to know," she insisted.
He let her have it, even if it wasn't quite true. "I just don't want you to worry that I'm ever going to…leave you to deal with things on your own." He paused and swallowed, determined that the weakness he felt pushing at the back of his throat shouldn't be heard. "You and me are a team. Even when we get angry and frustrated."
She gave him that look again. The one that melted his bones. And then she smiled with self-awareness. "We are always frustrated."
Truer words were never spoken. "Okay," he allowed. "But sometimes we're frustrated with each other, instead of just sharing a mutual frustration at our unique situation."
Ziva smiled and lifted her eyebrows in acknowledgement. He had more to say, much more that was of much greater importance, but he hesitated. He knew what he wanted to tell her. He felt the urge grow from his soul and press at his seams in an effort to get out and be heard. He could fight against it if he really wanted to. After all these years, he was a total pro at fighting his urges when it came to her. But he was tired of it. Even if he had a suspicion that her fighting days weren't quite over, he didn't care anymore. From now on, when it came to Ziva, honesty was going to be his game plan.
"Ziva, I'm not saying this to rub salt into the wound. But I mean it; you're not alone."
In the moment before she bowed her head and pressed her forehead against his chest, hiding her face, Tony caught the way her expression crumbled. But it was a good crumble. He knew it was good because she fisted his t-shirt in her good hand and stayed there against him instead of pushing away and asking for space. And he thought that might've been another step forward.
He held her head between his hands and pressed a kiss to her crown. Then, as his heart hammered and his throat started to close, he whispered quickly into her hair. "You're not alone because I love you, and I could never leave you."
Ziva drew a loud, heavy breath and lifted her head. Her eyes were damp, and she looked at him with hope that weighed heavily on his shoulders. She had wanted to hear that. Probably needed to hear it as much as he'd needed to say it. But he could sense hesitation in her, and honestly, as much as it hurt, it also didn't surprise him. She wouldn't be returning the sentiment right now. Not because she didn't love him. He knew now more than ever that she did. But she was dealing with too much right now and going through too many changes. She needed something to be stable and normal for a while, and it looked like that something would be him.
His eyes left hers for a fraction of a second while he found his resolve and acceptance, and then he told her the other thing she needed him to say. "I know you're probably not ready to hear that. Or at least ready for what it means. And that's okay." He ran his hand through the length of her hair and gave her a warm smile. "But I need you to know," he went on, borrowing her own phrasing, "because I never want you to think that I'm not going to be here for you."
Ziva lifted her hand to his cheek as her eyes filled again. "I do not deserve you," she said roughly.
She'd told him that the night before as well. But instead of joking with her like he had previously, he frowned at the statement and dismissed it outright. "Don't say that."
Her thumb ghosted across his cheek. "Why are you so patient?"
Tony thought about that for a moment, but he found the answer easily. "Because in times past, you were patient with me."
"I feel it has been a one-way street for too long," she admitted. "And I do not like it."
He shook his head firmly. "It hasn't been, Ziva. You've had a lot of high profile stuff to deal with. But I've been battling with myself and my past. My choices." He rolled his eyes a little at himself. "Mid-life crisis or something, I don't know. But I've been looking for a reason. Looking for something to make it all worth it, I guess. Something to give me peace. It's all been going on in my head."
"Since Wendy returned?" she asked.
He tried to put a timeline against when all of his soul-searching began, but it seemed like it had been going on so long that he couldn't remember when it began. He wasn't sure it mattered, though. "Around then, yeah," he agreed, and then eyed her. "You knew I was dealing with all that."
She swallowed and nodded once. "Yes," she said softly.
"And you helped me," he told her. "Because you were there."
Ziva smiled. "Well," she said, and sniffed back tears. "That is because we are a team."
He met her grin at her repeating his words. "Yes, we are."
Her thumb traced over his cheek again, and as she gazed at him her smile fell. He didn't have time to worry about what that meant, though, before Ziva leaned in and stretched her neck towards him. The next thing he knew, her perfectly soft lips pressed against his. Her kiss took him by surprise, especially when she didn't pull back straight away, but Tony kissed her back on instinct while still letting her lead. It never turned passionate, and he didn't really expect it to. But it was slow and deliberate and it still set his bones on fire. When she finally broke away and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, with an impish smile and a faint pink stain on her cheeks, he broke into a joyful grin. It wasn't how he imagined their fist real kiss would go, but it'd do just fine.
"Good team," she commented.
They shared a smile, and then they heard the front door open and slam closed again. Tony figured it must have been McGee coming back from his morning run, and he had to roll his eyes at their friend's timing.
"Of course," he muttered to Ziva.
As McGee's ragged breathing and dragging footsteps came up the hallway, Ziva gripped Tony's arm. "Tony?"
"Yeah?"
She hesitated with nerves, but then lifted her head to whisper closely to him. "I just need a little more time. Before we…I mean…There is so much that has happened, and…You know how I feel, but…"
It came as no surprise, and Tony nodded and quickly reassured her, even as her words reassured him. "It's all yours," he promised her.
Ziva pressed another fleeting kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she said, and then stepped away just as McGee walked into the kitchen.
"Morning, McGee," Tony said, although his eyes followed Ziva as she walked back to the stove.
"Hey," McGee panted. "Am I interrupting?"
"Yes," Tony replied, just as Ziva said, "No."
Ziva looked over her shoulder and gave Tony a quick frown that didn't hold much weight. "Your breakfast is getting cold," she reminded him.
Tony took his plate and cup of coffee from the kitchen island and carried them over to the informal dining table in the corner. With his heart still pounding hard, he took a seat. McGee grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and Ziva served up two more plates, and then the two of them spun around each other and made it to the table without colliding. McGee collapsed into his chair and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his t-shirt, and then appeared surprised when Ziva put a plate down in front of him.
"What's this for?"
"A small token of thanks," Ziva said.
"Oh, you don't have to—"
Ziva broke in with a whispered Hebrew curse and then looked between them with exasperation. "I have never known either of you to be so resistant to the idea of breakfast. Just say thank you and eat it."
"Thank you," Tony and McGee said in unison.
Ziva's smile returned, and she slowly lowered herself into her seat. "You are welcome. Thank you both for what you did last night."
McGee swallowed about a quarter of his bottle in one go, and then cleared his throat. "I was on my way out when you came down this morning, so I didn't get to say much more than Eddie's in custody," he told her. "The police took statements from Bonnie, Kavita and me, and they spent some time last night looking at the video from Bonnie's apartment, the photos he sent her and the video Tony took with his confession. They were going to talk to her mother about some of the calls he made to her as well."
"Did they seem confident that they would be able to charge him?" Ziva asked.
"Oh, they already did because of…" McGee trailed off, and then quickly snatched his hand back from the gesture it had been making towards Ziva. He swallowed hard. "Um, because of your fight."
Ziva nodded. "Yes, but will he be charged with stalking Bonnie? That is what we need to happen."
McGee shot a look at Tony, which Tony acknowledged but didn't comment on. It was very Ziva of Ziva to be worried about finishing the job she had taken on above everything else.
"I know," McGee said. "They hadn't when I left last night. And honestly, they said they'd have to look at everything a lot closer before they made a decision about it."
Ziva sat back in her chair with an angry look on her face. "So he may still walk away scotch free."
"Scott," McGee corrected quietly. "We're not going to let that happen."
"They need to look over the evidence, Ziva," Tony reminded her gently. "We wouldn't charge anyone simply from the statements made from witnesses. Metro's the same."
Ziva scrunched her nose in disgust. "If they do not charge him, this will all be for nothing. And Bonnie may not be safe."
"She'll be safe," Tony said.
"Not if he is out on the street—"
"He's not going to be on the street," Tony reminded her. "He has been charged for attacking you. And that will keep him in custody long enough for the police to look over the evidence we have of him stalking Bonnie." He gave her a look that implored her to trust him. "It's going to work out."
Ziva sighed, and then brushed her hair back off her face. She winced when she accidentally knocked the injury she'd sustained when Eddie broke the vase against her head. "We need to make a plan for if it does not work out."
Tony glanced at McGee, who pursed his lips and sent him back a look that said this was all on Tony to fix. "Let's give it a day," he suggested. "We'll just see where everything falls."
But Ziva was digging her heels in. "No. I need to talk to the police."
"Uh, they actually said that they'd be around today to take your statement," McGee told her.
"I gave them my statement at the hospital," Ziva said. "Tony and I both did."
"They probably want a little more depth from you the day after," Tony said. "You talked them through what happened, but there were gaps."
Ziva looked utterly offended. "I did not leave gaps!"
"It's not surprising," Tony assured her. "You know that. You had a concussion, so you were a bit confused."
"Tony, I told them everything," she insisted.
He knew she hadn't. Not because she had told him everything, and he'd been able to compare stories. She hadn't. But he'd been standing next to her when she'd given her statement, and he wasn't clear at all on the sequence of events. She needed him to be her ally, though, so he didn't tell her she was wrong.
"Well, then you get to tell them everything all over again," he said. "And you can talk to them about Bonnie."
"I will," she said, and then picked up her knife and stabbed it into her egg. Tony and McGee jumped when the blade hit her plate.
"Uh, anyway," McGee said slowly. "Bonnie said that she'd come around today as well. You know, to see how you're doing and say thanks."
Ziva grunted.
McGee bit his lip. "So…how are you?"
"Fine," Ziva said automatically. "I am fine."
McGee looked at Tony with an eyebrow raised, clearly not buying it. But Tony had Ziva's back and just shrugged in response. Her mood had taken a severe dive from just minutes ago, and he certainly understood why. They all wanted Eddie Hertzog to pay for the crap he'd put Bonnie through. On top of that, the three of them around the table needed their first case post-NCIS to go well. But if he was being honest, if the only thing they nailed Eddie for was his attack on Ziva, then Tony would be a very happy man.
…
"George? Hi, it's Tony DiNozzo."
"Hello, Tony," George, Tony's building super, replied over the phone in his refined English clip. "How are you today?"
"Yeah, good," Tony replied without giving the question any thought. "I was just calling to see if you'd had a chance to look at the damage in my apartment yet." He winced to himself as he asked the question. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the answer, but Ziva had mentioned (albeit while slightly groggy) that there had been some damage done to his apartment during the fight. He thought he may as well face the repair firing squad sooner rather than later.
"Yes, I have," George replied. "I tried to go up this morning but there were some of those crime scene CSI-type people there and I had to wait until they finished."
Tony nodded along, and wondered how much of a mess there would be left to clean up. He honestly couldn't remember the state the apartment had been in when he walked in. He knew that Ziva had been lying on the kitchen floor and that she'd bled on the tiles. He knew he walked through the apartment to make sure there wasn't anyone lurking, but he had absolutely zero recollection of what anything looked like.
"They probably made a mess too, huh?" Tony said, not really asking but rather making nice.
"A little. There is good news and bad news. And the good news is still bad news for you."
Tony sighed as his eyes went heavenward, and dropped back to sit on the mattress in the bedroom he used at Ziva's. "Okay," he said warily.
"Most of the damage was to your personal possessions," George said. "Broken chairs and dining table. I hope you were not terribly attached to them."
"Don't care," Tony replied honestly.
"There was damage to a wall in your kitchen and dining area that will require plastering and painting. And there is blood on the kitchen tiles, which will probably require professional cleaning."
Tony braced his elbows on his knees. "Okay," he said again, expecting this to be the tip of the iceberg. And also, there was a five-foot hole in the floor and your kitchen caught fire. But George stopped there.
"That's all," he said. "I can fix the wall and get some cleaners in for the floor in the next day or two. Perchance, will you be here?"
"No, I won't be," Tony said. It wasn't that he had plans over the next few days. It was just that he wanted to hang around Ziva's place for a while. "Are you sure that's all?"
"Yes," George said, but then hesitated. "Well…"
"What?"
"I know it was a big day for you and your girlfriend, so I don't like to bring it up," George hedged.
"Just give me all the bad news now," Tony said.
"It's just that I've received a few complaints from other residents today," George told him, and he sounded like he was cringing as he said it. Even though Tony was offended, he took pity on the guy. He'd always been a polite and responsive super, and he seemed to genuinely want to make sure the residents were well looked after. It wasn't his fault that one particular resident had a knack for attracting drama into his life.
"They're annoyed," Tony guessed.
"And concerned about safety," George added.
Tony threw one of his hands up to himself. "The guy who attacked and almost killed my friend wasn't an invited guest," he pointed out angrily, feeling his face grow suddenly hot. "I didn't let him in, and neither did she. So someone else in the building did."
"Of course," George said, avoiding any and all conflict. "How is she? Your girlfriend?"
"Fine," Tony replied. He didn't want to go into the sickening color the bruises on her neck had turned overnight, or how much blood came out of her hair when he washed it, or how painful her shoulder was, even if she refused to acknowledge it.
"And the man who attacked her," George said carefully. "Was he apprehended?"
"Yeah, they got him."
"Excellent," George replied, trying to sound positive. "Listen, Tony, I'm not saying that you need to move out. I just need to remind you that the building is rather quiet, and the residents like it that way."
"Tony?"
Tony glanced at his open bedroom door as McGee called out from downstairs, but he focused on his conversation with George. "So, how much can I expect the repair bill to be?"
"A few hundred," George said, and he sounded like he felt bad about that. "I'll do what I can to keep it down."
He rubbed his face and wondered again if maybe it was time to give the apartment up. He couldn't do it on the spot, though. "Okay. Thanks, George."
"Tony!" McGee called again.
"I'll let you know before we commit to any costs," George told him. "Give my best to your girlfriend."
"Thanks," Tony said, and hung up. "What, McGee?" he yelled down the stairs. The insistent probie didn't reply, though, so Tony got up off his bed and strode downstairs in a bad mood. He spotted McGee in the living room and made a beeline for him. "What?" he asked again, and then noticed there were other people in the room. Bonnie and Kavita were on one couch and Ziva sat by herself on the other. She looked uncomfortable. Bonnie and Kavita, however, were all smiles. "Oh. Hi, Bonnie. Kavita."
Kavita gave him an enthusiastic wave, and Bonnie stood up quickly and leaned over to give him an unexpected hug.
"Hey!" she greeted happily.
Tony's eyes slid over to McGee. He didn't need to ask for an explanation of what was going on.
"Bonnie just found out that the police are going to charge Eddie with stalking her," McGee told him.
"Thank you thank you thank you," Bonnie said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. "You guys are the best."
Tony broke into a smile and glanced at Ziva for her reaction. In front of people she didn't know too well, Ziva just had a polite and restrained smile in place. But Tony could see the relief in her eyes. He started to relax as well. "That's great news."
"Understatement," Bonnie said, but then the corner of her mouth pulled back with a cringe. "I'm just upset that things went as far as they did for you guys while you were trying to help me, and that you got hurt so badly." She looked at Ziva.
But Ziva predictably shrugged it off (from her good shoulder). "Bonnie, it is not your fault. It is Eddie's fault. And I am not so badly hurt. Really."
"But your arm…"
"I injured it months ago in a car accident," Ziva told her.
"What?" McGee shot in, but Ziva didn't stop to admit how badly she'd taken car of her injury from the accident with Bodnar.
"I was likely to need surgery anyway, even before this," she went on. "And the rest of my injuries are superficial."
Tony almost choked on the lie, but it served no purpose to force her to tell the truth now. And anyway, Kavita was on to her.
"I thought he, like…tried to strangle you," she said haltingly, and her voice got quieter as she seemed to realize that might not be something Ziva wanted to revisit.
"He was not successful," Ziva replied as Tony took a few steps closer to her in quiet support. "And he will be paying for it for a long time. It was not an ideal way to bring this case to a close, but it did. That is the important thing."
Bonnie shifted forward on the couch and leaned closer to Ziva. "The police said that you put up a pretty incredible fight."
The subtle change in Ziva's expression told Tony that she didn't agree, and she'd more or less said the same thing to him the night before. He wished she wouldn't always look for a way to be hard on herself.
"I just have to say, I really admire you for standing up to him, and going toe-to-toe, I guess," Bonnie said. "It was really brave."
Ziva swallowed and winced slightly. "It is my job," she said simply.
Tony could feel Ziva's discomfort with all this coming off her in waves, so he stepped in and took the pressure off her. "Bonnie, did the police tell you what's going to happen now?"
She dragged her eyes off Ziva. "Um, not really."
"He might appear in court this afternoon, or maybe not until Monday if they're busy. It's likely he'll be bailed out to await trail, but with the condition that he doesn't go anywhere near you or try to contact you. If he does, you just need to call the police. He'll be found in violation of his bail conditions and sent back to jail until his trail date."
"What if he ignores that and just comes for Bonnie anyway?" Kavita asked, her eyes darting between them with worry.
"I don't think he will," McGee told her. "He's not that dumb. Arrogant, yes. But he has a reputation to protect. He's not going to risk it."
"It's probably safe for you both to go home," Tony told them. "If you see him, call the police straight away. Don't waste time engaging with him. Just call for help."
Bonnie nodded, taking the information in. "Okay. And maybe I should look into some self defense classes."
"Bonnie, do not engage with him if you see him," Ziva repeated forcefully.
But Bonnie shook her head. "No, I know. I just mean that knowing how to defend myself would make me feel better."
"Oh," Ziva said, much softer this time. "Yes, that is a very good idea. You will enjoy it." She paused thoughtfully. "I know a woman who teaches classes not too far from your neighborhood. She is retired from the army. I will find her contact information for you."
Bonnie smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
"Yeah, I need an alternative to the gym," Kavita said. "I'm so sick of the stupid elliptical."
"Ziva, do you mind if I ask you something personal?"
"Uh…"
"What makes you do all this?" Bonnie asked. "Not just this private detective business, but what made you decide to become a federal agent?"
Ziva hesitated. The answer to that question could go on for hours, and involve corrections, side notes, tangents and back story on half a dozen people or more. But Ziva was a private person, so she gave an extremely vague and abridged answer.
"I cannot explain it," she replied. "I just know I need to. And I know that Tony and Tim are going to do it with or without me, so…I would prefer to be there when they do. We are a team."
Tony smiled at her and then glanced at McGee. That summed things up quite nicely, he thought. They all had a chance this summer to down tools and walk away from this kind of job for good. But they couldn't. There was something in each of them that just compelled them to keep going. Together.
"Well, that much is obvious," Bonnie said. "It seems like it'd be a nice thing to have."
"A team?"
"Yeah. Getting to work with your friends, and doing something good together."
"Sometimes," Ziva muttered, but smiled to show she was joking. Mostly.
"Well, I think it's pretty amazing," Bonnie asserted. "And if it weren't for you all and your team, Eddie would never have been arrested." She shrugged. "Who knows what he might have ended up doing?"
Wednesday, 23 December 2015
It snowed on the morning of Bonnie's funeral.
From first light, big fluffy flakes fell from a grey sky and froze the earth beneath. It clung to the bare branches of the trees protecting the perimeter of the cemetery grounds and blanketed the lawns. The headstones that were so lovingly cared for were topped with ice. Usually, Ziva loved the snow. There was something dreamlike about it. Otherworldly, at times. But this morning, the sight of the pristine snow that seemed to complement the most festive time of the year in D.C., only brought forth the memory of arriving at Bonnie's mother's house, and the Christmas tree she died beneath. For the first time since arriving in Washington ten years ago, the snow left Ziva feeling depressed.
She supposed that if she was going to be depressed anywhere, then a funeral would be the most appropriate place.
Despite the weather, Bonnie's family had decided to go ahead with the graveside service. Dozens of mourners crowded together in coats and gloves beneath the tent that had been erected for the service, and stared solemnly at the gleaming cherry wood casket topped with the brightest of white lilies. A solo vocalist sang softly behind the priest as he recited a eulogy on behalf of Bonnie's family. As he talked about Bonnie's commitment to her mother and friends, Ziva tried to read the faces of the people around her. Rallying around Bonnie's mother were several older people, men and women with red eyes who clutched tissues in one hand and each other in their second. Aunts and uncles, Ziva thought. Family friends who'd been like aunts and uncles to Bonnie once upon a time. There was a clutch of people about Bonnie's age, some distracted from their grief as they tried to keep the young children in their arms and around their legs tucked deeply into their winter coats. Kavita sat with two other women Ziva had never seen before, who watched the service stoically and occasionally pulled Kavita against their sides and squeezed her shoulder and rubbed her back. One kept a supply of fresh tissues coming as the other took the tear-soaked ones and stuffed them into her bulging pockets.
Tom Chesterfield was there in a black suit that Ziva knew he would have to dust off too many times over the course of his career with NCIS. His eyes stayed fixed on Bonnie's coffin and an expression of permanent regret had seemed to settle into his features. Ziva felt a pang of empathy for him. He was the last person to see Bonnie alive, and she knew that 'what if's were probably piling up in his head and weighing on his heart. What if he and Bonnie had lingered at lunch a little longer that day? Would Charlie Fields have lost his nerve and walked away? Or would he have come back another day? Ziva hoped it wouldn't eat at him and make Tom fall apart before his career had even started.
There was a group of younger people around Tom, all wearing brand new suits and serious expressions. She watched most of them look at Leon Vance and nod to each other over his presence, and Ziva decided that they were the new recruits who Bonnie had trained with at Glynco. She wondered how many of them would last after this, and who would thrive. Who would be compelled to work harder after tragedy had struck so close to them, and who would be shell-shocked beyond what they had imagined?
She thought it was nice of Vance to come, although she wondered who he was there for. The woman who had died before she'd even received her NCIS ID card, the new agents who were due to pledge their loyalty to their country and the agency in just a matter of weeks, or the team who had worked hard to find Bonnie's killer and one-time stalker, despite the personal cost. She supposed it didn't matter. His respect was worth as much as anyone's as he sat beside Gibbs. McGee and Tony flanked Ziva, and she didn't need to look at their faces to know they probably felt about as bad about this funeral as she did.
She and Tony had talked about it last night, as they huddled together under a blanket on the couch and watched snow fall outside the window. He'd told her for the second, third, maybe fourth time that she couldn't carry every death on her shoulders, and logically she knew he was right. She had been taught the same thing at Mossad. And by her father. And by Gibbs. And by Ari and Schmiel and Jenny Shepard. Everyone in this business, as it were, knew that you couldn't take emotional responsibility for things that were beyond your best control. But as she looked around the crowd of mourners, at Bonnie's family who wouldn't spend Christmas with her in a few days as planned, at her training buddies who would go into the field without her, at her friends and cousins with children that Bonnie never had the chance to have herself, Ziva couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of hopelessness. She let out a deep sigh without intending to, and Tony reached over to briefly squeeze her hand.
The priest reached the end of his readings, and the vocalist took over to sing Abide With Me as Bonnie's casket was lowered into the ground. Bonnie's mother started sobbing audibly, and Ziva had to avert her eyes from the scene. She had wanted to go over and say a few words before the end of the service, but now she felt as though she would be intruding too much. She decided she would write her a letter instead.
Tony gave her hand a little tug and she looked up at him. "You want to stay a while?" he asked quietly.
Ziva shook her head. "No. Let's not intrude."
He nodded, and they fell in line behind McGee, Gibbs and Vance as they navigated the cleared path through the snow to the road. Ziva looked back over her shoulder in time to see Bonnie's mother fall against a younger man's shoulder and let out an anguished cry that hit Ziva in the chest. As an investigator, she could bring the family of the deceased answers and bring guilty parties to justice. But after that, a family was left to its own devices to make sense of and peace with their loss. Sometimes, they never did.
"Boss?" Tony called as they reached the road where their cars were parked.
Gibbs turned back to them. "What is it, DiNozzo?"
"We'll be back in a little while," Tony said. "Taking the scenic route back to the office."
Gibbs' eyes flicked over to Ziva, and he gave her a once-over before nodding his understanding. "Not too long," he said, encouraging a quick return to normalcy. He and McGee continued up the road.
There was a thin layer of snow on the windshield when Tony and Ziva reached his car, and they used their gloved hands to dust it off before climbing into the relative warmth of the sedan. Tony turned the engine over and then turned the heat up as high as it would go, but left the car in idle. They spent a minute watching the trail of mourners leave the cemetery grounds, small groups huddled together against cold and grief. Ziva shivered, even as the heater worked to thaw the ice in her cheeks and nose.
"A couple of years ago, that could've been you," Tony said tightly, and Ziva swung her head around to look at him. He was staring through the windshield at Kavita as she wandered slowly towards the road, and his expression struck her as painfully vulnerable.
"It could have been me a dozen times over the years," she pointed out. "Or you."
Tony nodded slowly, and then pursed his lips. "You know, I'm beginning to think that you and me might not be very good federal agents."
Ziva had to chuckle. "The thought had occurred to me." She reached over to squeeze his hand, and Tony grabbed on to her with more intensity than she was expecting. She was in no rush to get going, so she left her hand resting on his thigh as he threaded his gloved fingers into hers.
"I think I need to make an appointment with Man Hands," he told her suddenly, and his eyes darted in her direction briefly before they landed out the window again.
Initially, Ziva misheard him. Making an appointment with Man Hands was on her list of things to do, and he and Gibbs had been gently nudging for it this week. But when she ran his statement over again in her head, her stomach knotted with worry. Tony had come with her a few times to see her counselor two or three months after their first case with Bonnie and Eddie, and while the focus of the sessions was to help Ziva deal with the trauma, anxiety and emotional exhaustion that had fallen over her in the year before, they had also touched on some of Tony's anxieties around repeated abandonment. She wasn't naive enough to believe that those few sessions had solved all his problems, and there had been enough times over the last two years when he'd held her tight after a bad day and admitted to his worries in a whisper. But generally, and particularly lately, he had seemed to be his normal positive and content self. It bothered her a lot that she hadn't picked up that he wasn't.
"What's going on?" she asked, lowering her voice even though they had complete privacy in the car.
Tony turned his head and let if drop back against the seat. "Remember after Eddie attacked you, and you told me that you thought you'd already dealt with all your Somalia-related trauma? But then you realized you hadn't, and it kind of surprised you."
"Yes."
"Well, a week ago I thought I'd dealt with all my issues related to Eddie and what he did to you. And I thought I'd dealt with Somalia. And I thought I'd dealt with half a dozen other things. But…I'm not okay," he admitted haltingly. "And I'm really embarrassed about that because I didn't even work on this case. I just watched from the sidelines."
He was wrong about that. To Ziva, he had been right in the thick of it and holding her together. Being her sounding board. Giving her advice when she needed it. He hadn't collected evidence or talked to suspects, but he had still acted as her partner. "You were in there with me, Tony. Don't be embarrassed."
He sighed heavily, and used his free hand to rub his face vigorously. "No, it's just…I don't know how many cases I've worked in the last 20 years. And a not insignificant number of those cases have been horrible, brutal, nightmare-inducing examples of the worst in humanity. But I've dealt with them. I've coped. Until now."
Ziva watched him closely. His cheeks were reddening, either from a suddenly overwhelming moment of emotion or the heater blasting in his face, and his eyes were beginning to water. She realized how exhausted he looked, and she felt a strong stab of protectiveness over him. She gripped his hand harder.
"There is no shame in it, Tony," she told him firmly. "It has all built up over time, and no one would fault you for having trouble. We all do at times. Look who you are talking to."
He didn't acknowledge her joke, but nodded slowly as he stared, unblinking, out the window.
"It is brave of you to recognize that you need to go back and talk to her, and do something about it."
His eyebrows rose and fell quickly. "Yeah, I'm not sure that brave is the right word."
"You have encouraged me to get help before," she pointed out, and leaned forward in an effort to get him to look at her. "If McGee came to you and told you what you just told me, I have no doubt you would encourage him to get help as well."
"McGee would never need help," he said, finally meeting her eyes. "That guy is disturbingly well adjusted."
"But if he did…"
"Yeah."
"So why should it be any different for you?" she asked. "Why do you not deserve help?"
He stared at her for a moment before a small, very self-aware smile touched his face. "Because I'm not supposed to talk about it. I'm not supposed to admit it."
"That is Gibbs talking," she argued.
He didn't agree or disagree. "Doesn't matter. I'm going to go back. I'm having stress nightmares again."
Ziva frowned. She was as familiar with Tony's stress nightmares as he was with her panic attacks. But she hadn't noticed him murmuring and tossing around for a while. "When did you have one?"
"Last night," he told her. "A few days ago."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Tony just shook his head in response, and he didn't need to say more. Ziva understood. He hadn't said anything because he was focused on her.
"You were dealing with me," she stated.
Tony dropped her hand only to reach over and cup the back of her head. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Don't say it like that."
"I'm sorry, Tony."
"There's nothing to be sorry for."
There was, but she didn't bother arguing with him. He would only dig his heels in from here. "What are you dreaming about?"
Tony shrugged and tried to smile. "Just your normal, garden variety panic dreams about not being able to find you. Or finding you dead. Bottom of the ocean, middle of the desert." He frowned at her. "It's always somewhere inaccessible with you, Ziva."
She rolled her eyes at his admonishment, but she felt terrible about making him worry. She had been trying so hard over the last two years to be a better partner to him, but it looked like she would have to redouble her efforts.
"I am here, Tony," she promised. "I am not going anywhere. You are not alone." She paused as he smiled genuinely. "And I love you."
"I love you, too."
Ziva leaned across the centre console to kiss him, and promised herself that she would find a way to help him.
"I am sorry I did not see that you were struggling," she told him.
"It's okay," he said, and kissed the back of her hand.
"So you know, I am planning on going back to see her as well."
He didn't look surprised, but nodded supportively. "Good." He paused. "We could get a group discount."
Ziva chuckled with him, and she leaned over again to kiss his cheek. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked.
But Tony shook his head. "No. Not right now. Let's both do our own thing to start and then see where it all leads."
She nodded firmly, respectful of his need to talk it all through with someone who wasn't at the centre of all his current anxieties. She just wished she hadn't caused them in the first place. "Whatever you need. Just tell me. I am here."
One more chapter to go. Such relief! I promise you'll get a little bit of the Fantasia date, and a few other bits and pieces. Thanks again for reading all the way to this point. It means a lot. See you next week.