They drive to the hospital in silence, the tension in the air thick enough for Ziva to cut with one of her knives. Tony repeatedly wishes he had a bottle of water so that it could simultaneously soothe his turning stomach and numb the tingling sensation in his lips.
Every time he dares to steal a glance at Ziva, she has her head turned toward the window so that all he sees is her ponytail. He wants to see her face, her eyes, because that kiss was definitely not one-sided; she had been affected, too.
That kiss had been headed somewhere.
He pulls into a parking spot and turns the car off but makes no move to get out, and neither does she. With a deep sigh, he says, "We gotta talk."
"I do not wish to."
Fighting the muscles that want to slam his palm against the steering wheel in frustration and anger, because he cannot continue to play this game, he says, "Ziva, I'm tired of ignoring everything. We. Have. To. Talk."
When Tony turns his head, he is somewhat startled to see her leaning forward and looking right back at him. "We are here to see McGee, Tony. We can talk later."
Her eyes are sincere. She knows as well as he does that their kiss was the result of something that has been brewing just below the surface for a long, long time. There is no denial here; in fact, she's right. This is not the time or place.
"Later." It's a question.
"Yes." A promise.
Nodding slowly, he says, "Okay," and watches her open the passenger side door. She gives a small smile over her shoulder before slipping out of the car.
Using the assurance she gave him as evidence to the contrary, he desperately tries to squelch the thought that Ziva always seems to be the one looking back.
0000000000
There is a great difference between an atmosphere with Abby and one without; as soon as Tony and Ziva step into McGee's room, they can tell that she is absent. Consequently, the TV is turned to a normal volume, and McGee is watching it stoically. When he sees his teammates standing in the doorway, he quickly grabs the remote and flips the channel, but not before Tony manages to catch the glimpse of the logo in the corner of the screen.
"The Food Network? Really?" he taunts, flopping down in a plastic chair.
McGee rolls his eyes. "It's the middle of the day, okay? There's nothing on."
"If Rachael Ray fits your tastes, I bet you, like all American soccer moms, would enjoy General Hospital."
"Tony, I was severely injured by a shattering window. Can't you leave me alone for a while?"
He does feel bad when he notes McGee's face, exasperated and desperate for a minute of peace. After all, the younger agent is usually the target for the older one's teasing and ridicule, and apparently, being in the hospital doesn't change that. It's times like these when Tony is more, not less, tempted to poke fun, but McGee isn't wrong- he shouldn't be acting like this right now.
He glances at Ziva out of the corner of his eye.
It really is time to grow up and start facing things head-on.
Before he can decide on something to say that isn't "don't worry, I can appreciate a good soap, too," she gives McGee a chaste kiss on the forehead and asks how he feels.
"It's been getting better," he tells her. "Kind of achy all over. Will you push my morphine button?"
Ziva complies, and Tony says, "Hey, where is our favorite painkiller pumper, anyway?"
"Down in the chapel. She's gone a couple times since we've been here; she… she's taken the whole thing kind of hard."
Tony is surprised, and though Ziva will not look directly at him, he can tell that she is, too. "I thought she seemed hardly affected," she says.
The way McGee sighs makes Tony wonder if Abby is tending more to him or vice versa. "She swings back and forth. One minute, she's fine; the next she's just a mess. I don't know what to do for her, or what I can do, when I'm like… this." He indicates the entire length of his body.
"We're all kind of feeling that way." Tony breathes his own small sigh. "Does Gibbs know?"
"No. Haven't seen him today, and she didn't want to bother him while he was dealing with Dearing. Nice job, by the way."
This joke, he cannot help. "It was pretty anticlimactic. Would have been an awful ending to a movie."
They get off the topic of grief and the bombing and the case and move on to a lighter discussion involving movies and past office pranks. Their words are accompanied by quiet laughter and a certain feeling of restraint. After Ziva leaves to use the bathroom ("I've got it, Tony," she had said as she stood, before he could open his mouth), McGee raises his eyebrows. "What's going on with you two?"
His guard immediately goes up. "What?"
"You've barely looked at each other since you came in here. And we've all three been having one conversation, but it was like… you were each only replying to me."
Why the hell are they, a couple of trained federal agents, such bad liars?
To make matters worse, McGee is waiting for an answer to his question. There's no way in hell Tony is going to say that there have been confessions made and kisses exchanged and feelings possibly reciprocated. It's not happening, for a number of reasons.
Instead, he says, "It's just, you know, the whole elevator thing. There… it wasn't pleasant."
McGee nods, brows knitting together. "I meant to ask you, how long was it before you were rescued?"
Tony thinks back, but really, he has no idea. Time had seemed to stand still as he tried to get Ziva's bleeding under control; it could have been minutes or it could have been hours. "Not really sure. You'd have to ask Gibbs."
"It was after they got to me, right? That's what Abby said." McGee fixes Tony with one of those penetrating looks that makes it clear he's not the clueless little brother everybody treats him as. "What was it like for you?"
"What was what like?"
"Ziva getting hurt."
"What the hell kind of question is that? It scared the shit out of me," Tony snaps, even though he knows that McGee has seen him fall apart in the past for Ziva-related reasons and is only asking out of concern. "And it didn't help that we were stuck in an elevator that was gonna drop all the way down the shaft for all we knew."
After checking that nobody is entering the room, McGee lowers his voice and says, "You and her-"
"Tim." He isn't entirely sure where this conversation is going, but the general direction doesn't seem like one he wants to head in. "Not now."
McGee doesn't push it; Tony takes a deep breath and wipes his palms on his jeans. The two men stare in different directions until they hear a clunking noise behind them. Of course it is Abby's shoes; she enters with Gibbs in tow. "Look who I found."
Her voice lacks its usual exclamation and her eyes are puffy; Tony can tell that what little enthusiasm she has is forced. It might be the first time he has ever seen her trying this hard to be cheerful.
"Hey, Boss," Tony and McGee chorus.
At the sound of Tony's voice, Abby snaps her head toward him. A small bit of light creeps back into her eyes. "Tony, hi! Is Ziva with you?"
"Yeah. Bathroom." The expression on Gibbs' face is unreadable. Determined not to back down, Tony meets the steely gaze and holds it for several seconds.
Abby finds two more chairs and puts them side-by-side near the foot of the bed. She is talking- not as much as usual, but enough to take the burden off the males in the room, and she carries on until Ziva enters, looking a little disheveled. Using the restroom was probably more difficult than she had envisioned.
"Ziva!" Happiness bumping up another notch, Abby carefully hugs her friend's neck, mindful of her shoulder. "How are you?"
"I am good," she says; only Tony notices the way her eyes flick briefly over to him. She sits down in her chair. Tony doesn't miss the way Gibbs makes careful observations about her injury and demeanor, and then the boss turns to give a small nod of approval to his senior field agent.
Did you guys see the season ten preview? I'm still watching and rewatching it! IT'S AMAZING. If you haven't seen it, it's on YouTube!
Okay, and just so we're on the same page here- last line is meant to signify that Gibbs is going to lay off them… for now.
Thanks for reading, folks!