February 10th, 2006
He watches her nervously as she reclines in the chair of the tattoo parlor. She doesn't flinch as the needle permanently inks her. She watches the tattoo artist carefully.
"You know that if you screw up I will know? I can read Hebrew."
"I can't, but I can copy the symbols that you gave me," the young man replies.
"You don't even know what you're putting on her?" Tony questions.
"Hebrew symbols," the young man answers.
"But you don't know what it says?"
"I assume that she does, and since she is the one getting the tattoo, that is all that matters."
"Of course," Tony nods.
"So can I ask why the two of you are getting matching tattoos? If you aren't planning on being together forever, they really aren't a good idea."
"We just got married," Ziva reveals.
"Congrats. I'm all done with you," he smiles.
Ziva looks at the that runs vertically up the inside crest of her left hip. It was so small that she could not make out the symbols. To the untrained eye it would just look like a couple of dashes. The tattoo artist hands her a magnifying glass. She studies the tattoo.
"Perfect," she compliments.
"So where are you getting yours?" The tattoo artist questions Tony.
"She hasn't told me yet," Tony responds.
"You have clippers?" Ziva inquires.
"Of course," the young man nods.
Tony takes a seat in the chair. She unzips his jacket.
"Take it off," she insists.
He pulls the jacket off. He untucks his sweater, and pulls it over his head. He holds out his arm.
"The t-shirt too," Ziva instructs.
"Where am I getting this at?"
He slips the shirt over his head. She presses her hand against his hairy chest. Her fingers press against his heart. "Here," she divulges.
"You are going to leave a mark on my heart? How cliché."
He watches her climb into the shower.
"The hair grew back," she continues.
"I know."
"Besides, no one knows that it is there. You are so furry that not even a gorilla would be able to spot it."
"Sometimes I wonder if you drugged me."
"Why is that?" she laughs.
"That is the only way you could ever get me to agree to tattoo."
"Not the only way," she says softly.
"Oh... I almost forgot about that."
"How could you forget?"
"There have been lots of amazing nights, it's hard to remember just one."
"I think you paid me back for making you get a tattoo."
"That I can't even read," he adds.
"It was for me. I am the only one who needs to know what it says. Do you remember what happened after we got our tattoos?"
"How could I forget?"
February 10th 2006
She cooks him dinner. He sits at the table, waiting for her. She places two plates on the table. He opens a bottle of alcohol.
"What is that for?" she wonders as she sits down, adjacent to him.
"We're celebrating."
"With whiskey?"
"Look they didn't have much of a selection, this is Vermont."
"You could not find anything else?"
"You don't like whiskey?"
"It is not my drink of choice."
He scoots his chair out, away from the table. He goes over to the fridge, and pulls out another bottle. He sits it on the table.
"Tequila," he offers.
She nods, and he fills her eight ounce cup, up, half-way.
"You are not supposed to sip tequila," she points out.
"Then don't," he warns.
February 11th, 2006
He climbs out of bed. His feet hit the cold, creaky, wood floor. His bare feet carry him to the bathroom. He pushes open the heavy wooden door. The bathroom light is off. There is a night light plugged in above the counter.
"Are you in here?" he questions.
"Don't turn the light on," she snarls.
He walks over to the toilet. He finds her hugging it.
"You ok?"
"I am going to be sick," she replies. He grabs her hair as she rockets towards the toilet bowl. He sits in the bathroom with her, holding her hair, for two hours. When she finishes throwing up she brushes her teeth, and climbs into the shower.
He climbs out of the shower, and wraps a towel around himself. She applies her make up as he dries off.
"And you never drank Tequila with me again," he smiles.
"And I never will," she adds.
"You've got to live a little."
"I married you, didn't I?"
"You should get going, if you are going to get to work before me."
She kisses his cheek, and smiles.
"You just put on lipstick, didn't you?"
"I don't know," she shrugs.
He looks at his face in the mirror.
"Five years, and it still doesn't get old? I think that you started wearing lipstick, just so you could do that."
"I have to leave my mark," she warns.
"Ziva regardless of what happened in the past, I am yours. I am yours, and only yours. I do not want to be anyone else's. You're the only one I want. You don't have to mark your territory."
"Like you don't mark yours?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You used a label maker to put a label on my coffee cup."
"It's yours."
"It says 'mine'. You put it there."
"As a reminder that you are mine. I know the coffee mug isn't."
"I would hope so, it has my name on it."
"I told you that wasn't necessary."
"You kept taking my coffee mugs to work. And then you would lose the lids. It was getting a little bit out of hand."
"Things are going to get a little bit out of hand, if you don't leave for work now."
"I drive fast," she reminds him.