Title: Picking up the Pieces and Filling in the Gaps
Author: ChelseaDaggerCinderella
Summary: Tony and Ziva spend the four months between 'Hiatus' and 'Shalom' strengthening their partnership…and their relationship, but Tony still winds up working undercover for the Director, and Ziva has demons of her own to deal with. Can they come together to make everything alright again?
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, although I'd like to. No infringement intended, Mr. Bellisario.
Author's Note: I really want to thank everyone who reviewed—you're all Top Gun in my book! I really appreciate the effort you take in reviewing—it really does make me want to update faster. Also, a few of you mentioned that I seem to have everyone in character—that's something I really work hard at, so if I start to slip, please let me know. That being said…on with the show!
It had been three weeks since that night in the office. In that time they'd had four cases, one new team member, and Tony and Ziva hadn't exactly brought up their conversation again. They weren't ignoring that they had talked so openly with one another, but it was most definitely not their most comfortable moment.
The two hadn't really brought it up to one another, nor had they ever truly acknowledged it outside of that night and the post-mortem mumbled thank-you's the next morning, so it was truly surprising to Ziva when Tony showed up on her doorstep once again. He wasn't angry this time; in fact, if Ziva's nose was any indicator, he came baring Chinese food.
Ziva was slightly agape as Tony ambled past her through her living room as if it were the most casual thing in the world. "Lo Mein, Chow Mein, Moo Goo Gai Pan, egg rolls, and—what?"
"I am confused. Have I forgotten plans?"
"What, I can't come over spontaneously with food and save a friend from a night of unrelenting, unyielding, never-ending boredom?" He chuckled.
She cocked an eyebrow. "And what makes you think that I am bored?"
"Correction, you're not bored now, but you were before, and would have been had I not shown up with this culinary treat." She tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her smile. "What?" he asked with mock indignation. She cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind her ears, sitting down at the table and peaking into the bag. "What?" Tony queried again.
She couldn't hold the laughter in any longer. "You have come to rescue me from the boredom of existing outside of your general presence? Is that what you are telling me, Tony?"
He didn't it find it quite that hilarious. He relented and began to unpack the food onto her small kitchen table. "Look, at the very least you're scoring free food, and you're saving me from the boredom of—"
"Being without you?" she asked tongue-in-cheek, bursting out into laughter, yet again.
He rolled his eyes and clutched the egg rolls to his chest petulantly, "Behave, young Ziva, or I will be forced to withhold the deliciousness of the egg roll," he warned, mockingly."
Ziva, for her part, put two hands in the air in mock surrender and stood to get plates from the cupboard. Tony continued unpacking the food as she plucked two beers from the fridge. "What is this about, Tony?"
He smirked and put on all sorts of false bravado, "I told you—"
"Tony!" she said, warningly, nailing him with a piercing stare.
He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes as he handed her chopsticks. "Just one of those days…that alright?"
"Only if you remembered the extra goose sauce."
"Duck sauce," he chuckled.
She winked, "I know."
"Do you not think I have a life, as well, Tony?" she asked in futility one week and three unannounced, but not wholly unwelcome, stop-bys later.
He slapped the pizza down on the coffee table and removed the DVD case from between his teeth. "Well, Ziva," he said dramatically, "You have NCIS—and, well…me, I suppose."
She slammed the door with mock anger and walked to the kitchen to get plates and napkins. "Do not forget my gun, Tony," she called. "I have that as well."
When she came back in the room he was playing with her TV and inserting a disk into her DVD player. She looked at it with dread. "I feel a headache…" she mumbled to herself.
He spread his arms wide, "Oh, come on! This is a great film, Ziva."
She grabbed the DVD case out of his hands and stared at him, exasperated. "Grizzly Man! Grizzly Man, Tony?"
He was using his "announcer" voice. "Man of nature travels through the wild to attend to nature and traverse with the fierce grizzlies of Katmai National Park. Facing danger head-on, sticking to his guns, embracing his love and trust of—"
"He gets eaten, Tony!" she announced, tearing her eyes away from the back of the informative DVD cover.
Tony plopped down on the couch with a bounce and shot a classic DiNozzo smirk her way. "Never said he was a master of common sense, did I?"
They'd moved on from the pizza to popcorn and were currently sprawled over Ziva's couch and coffee table. It was all rather slovenly but perfectly acceptable for the evening of mindless entertainment for which they had planned—or for which Tony had planned.
"Who spends thirteen summers visiting killer animals in the wild?"
"It was his hobby."
"Has the man not heard of sex?" she asked wryly.
Tony shifted, suddenly a little less comfortable than before. "Well, considering he died with his girlfriend, I'd say it's a definite possibility."
"But they died together in the woods before being digested—"
"—partially digested."
"—by the very bears he had deluded himself into thinking trusted him."
"Well, I can see you're a fan," he commented, dryly.
"In Mossad, we have a word for people like that."
"Cuddle-monkeys?" he joked.
"Targets," she stated, sending an odd chill down Tony's spine. Not exactly bad, actually rather—thrilling. Thrilling? he thought to himself. Well, that's interesting…
"You have to let the cinematic experience overtake you."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning sometimes it is easier to think illogically and let yourself be carried away by what's in front of you, rather than scrutinizing every last detail." Ziva just stared at him, poker-face intact, completely nonplussed.
She turned in his direction and he leaned in, all business; their faces not that far apart. Ziva took a deep breath—and held it. "There are times when you simply have to go with the flow of things," he said in a very serious tone of voice, and then proceeded to dump the bowl of popcorn on her head.
Ziva, never one to be outfoxed, outsmarted, outplayed, or outdone, picked up a piece of popcorn from where it had landed somewhere down her shirt—very aware of Tony's eyes watching the trek her fingers made on their scavenging mission—and popped it in her mouth. She arched an eyebrow, "Go with the flow, yes?"
"Yeah," he said, his mouth suddenly dry. "Something like that."
"Something like that?" she asked, kissing his lips quickly, taking him by surprise. "Or something like this?" she asked as she dumped her bowl of popcorn on his head.
He was stunned for a moment, feeling the tension in the room with every fiber in him. Then he reached up to brush popcorn out of her hair and let his hand remain on her face, cupping her cheek. "Something like the first one," he whispered, and then he fused his lips on hers.
"I cannot believe we just did that," she said later on that night.
"Really?" Tony asked from his position as Ziva's pillow. He was running a strand of Ziva's hair through his fingers over and over, enjoying the feel of it on his fingertips. ""
"Well," she answered slightly flustered and very un-Ziva-like. "I believe that we—I mean—I…"
"Well look at this," he mocked, a huge grin coming to his face. "Ziva David, super-ninja is all flummoxed. Never though that would of ever happened." He made a self-satisfying sigh and stretched his arms out wide beneath Ziva. "See, to me, this is movie plotline 101 right here. The dedicated partners, long hours, intense situations, deep trust, and of course," he added cockily, "the intense sexual attraction. But, it's good to see I can still make the earth rotate backwards. Always did have those skills."
That sobered Ziva right up. "Eh," she deadpanned, "I've had better."
"Excuse me?" he asked her, looking as if he'd eaten something sour.
"Do not worry, Tony." She patted his stomach as if she were placating a dog, "You performed adequately."
She moved to get up from the bed and the mess of tangled, sweaty sheets they were wrapped up in but he gently grabbed her arm to hold her back. "Adequately?" he asked, less amused, but falling into the cat-and-mouse repartee with ease. "Why don't I believe you, Zee-vah?"
"You are right," she stated with a nod of her head, making him relax a bit. "Perhaps that is too…clinical a term, yes?" He scowled at her. She leaned in closer to him, letting the front of the sheet fall back down to the bed, revealing her to his eyes once again. "Perhaps you would prefer a colorful American metaphor instead?"
He made a move for her head, bringing it down so their lips met in a frenzy of sensation. "I can think of something else I'd prefer, Sweetcheeks," he whispered against her lips as he rolled her over so he was covering her body with his as he ran his hands lightly up and down her sides, his lips making their way down the column of her neck.
"So can I," she said with a grunt as she propelled herself over his body, flipping their positions to her preference. She grinned and attacked his lips again, trapping him to her will this time around.
When the alarm went off at 0430 the next morning, Tony didn't even bother to try and stifle the groan. "Is this some sort of Mossad torture technique?" he mumbled sleepily into the pillow that his mouth was still sort-of attached to. He didn't get a response—just more annoying, ear-splitting beeping from Ziva's bedside table.
He cracked one eye open stiffly, "Ziva?" Still no response. He rolled over and swatted his mechanical enemy with a clumsy fist, no caring what button he hit so long as it stopped the manic beeping. He managed to lift his head up long enough to scan the room and realize that Ziva wasn't there. "Well this is a first," he mumbled. "Stood up in someone else's apartment." That's when he heard it—the shower running.
He smiled devilishly and managed to pull himself out of the very warm and comfortable bed. The door to the bathroom was partially open already and, as Tony found out, its hinges squeaked when opened anymore than that. He winced at the noise, any semblance of suave surprise tactics fully abandoned.
"Good morning, Tony," Ziva announced, ducking her head around the shower curtain to grin at him.
"I'll say it is," he agreed with a large grin to match hers. He cocked a suggestive eyebrow, "Want some company?"
She laughed; a rumble deep in her throat. Kind of a turn on, Tony decided. "My back could use scrubbing…"
He smiled mischievously, stripped his boxers off, and went for the curtain. "On your six, Sweetcheeks!" Then he slapped Ziva on the ass.
"Ah!" she exclaimed; equal parts laughter and indignation.
"Gear up!" he shouted later on that day, flipping his cell phone shut and tossing McGee the keys. "Dead Seal in his backyard on base."
McGee, Ziva, and Lee all grabbed for their guns, ID, and backpacks as Tony stalked his way out of the bullpen. "I'll call Ducky en route," Ziva offered. Tony just grunted his response.
"The irony of ironies," McGee said as he snapped pictures of the crime scene.
"How is a dead Lieutenant ironic, McGee?" Lee asked while attempting to sketch the scene.
"He was a Navy Seal," Ziva whispered in her ear conspiratorially.
Lee still wasn't getting it. "Found dead in a kiddy pool," McGee clarified. Lee's eyes were still a little clouded. "A trained aquatic Naval officer—found floating in a child's pool," he tried again, a little more forceful than necessary.
That earned him a smack in the head from Tony. "A little louder, McGee, I don't think the grieving widow quite heard you."
"Right, Boss. Sorry."
"Don't apologize, McGee."
"Sor—right, gotcha, Boss."
They had been working on the case all day and now, according to the clock, all night as well. "Go over it again," Tony ordered.
McGee worked the large monitor in the center of the bullpen with the controller in his left hand. "Right, okay. Lieutenant Brian Constance; 34, a Navy Seal, in impeccable health—"
Ziva rolled her eyes. "With the exception of the fact that he is currently deceased."
"...he was on 12 day leave from exercises in the Gulf, nothing worth killing him over. His wife, Belinda Constance is your average housewife; mother to 4 year old Trent and 2 year old Helen, retired from Marque Pharmaceuticals about 5 years ago; she's clean. According to Ducky's preliminary findings the Lieutenant's COD was drowning. Obviously, foul play."
Tony was unimpressed. "Seeing as a trained Navy Seal isn't a likely mark for drowning in the shallow end of a three foot plastic inflatable pool, I'd say I'm still waiting for you three to give me solid why, who, and how." No one really moved, and so Tony's face and tone both hardened. "Consider that an invitation, people!" Then they scattered.
"It does not make sense," Ziva said the next night, while she and Tony were sprawled out over her couch, take out food and case files strewn about everywhere.
"What, McGee's haircut? I know." He clutched his chest, "It's almost painful, right?"
Ziva just shook her head. "A man drowns in a child's pool and the only signs that things are amiss are a bump on the head, elevated hormone levels, and that said person is in fact dead!"
"Hey, those elevated hormones can be a killer," he said suggestively as he made a move for her waist, bringing her forward, inch by inch, just a hairsbreadth away from her mouth.
"Excuse me," she said, pulling away. "What happened to nothing above the case, Mr. Team Leader?"
He cleared his throat dramatically and picked up a case file to read, "You're right, we have to be professional." She nodded and did the same for a few moments before they both tossed their folders and Ziva nailed him to the couch with her mouth.
It was several hours later that both were awakened by the ringing of a cell phone; Tony's cell phone.
"Tony," Ziva mumbled, elbowing him to get his attention.
"Mmfph," he answered, groaning.
"Answer it before I kill it."
He moaned again and reached over to grab it from its place inside his pants, which were tossed on the floor. "DiNozzo."
It was Abby. "Omigod, Tony, I cracked the case!"
"Abs?" he asked blearily. "You went home hours ago, what—"
"I know, I know," she said, far too excited for the time of day—or night, as it may be. "But something about this whole case had been bugging me; I mean what self-respecting grown man drowns in his kids' blow-up pool, right?"
"Abby—"
"So I went back and rechecked everything, but specifically his blood tests. A guy that size doesn't roll over and play dead for anything let alone a little, tiny—"
"Abby!"
"Right, so I re-checked his blood and found traces of a compound found in most depressants; downers, like say Prozac and Valium, except we didn't find anything like that in his system. All standard drug tests came back clean, so I went back and checked everything; standard, non-standard, everything."
"And…?" he prompted, sitting up and pulling on his pants. Ziva was watching him behind slatted eyes, obviously not loving the idea of having to go back to work now—not that he was loving it any more than she was.
"And, I got a hit. Our Navy Seal was drugged and pushed."
"Anyway to backtrack the drug of choice?"
"Already done. The drug I got the hit on isn't on the market yet. I managed to pull a comparison from the FDA's database on upcoming releases. Guess what manufacturer is responsible for Lieutenant Constance's big dive?"
Tony pulled his shirt over his head, pissed at himself for not seeing it before. "Let me guess: Marque Pharm?"
"Bingo."
"Good work, Abs!"
And so it continued on, much like this for the next few weeks; working at the office until they lost a lead, and then dinner and case files at Ziva's until they lost interest and moved on to more intimate things.
"I find this movie most interesting."
"I thought you'd like it," Tony beamed, throwing his arm over Ziva's shoulders on the couch. "Can't go wrong with Cusack," he added.
"It is a simple premise, yes? Silly, and unrealistic; no assassin would be so—sloppy—" Tony rolled his eyes at her evaluation of realism (obviously flawed when it came to movies, but they'd work on that). "—but it is most definitively entertaining; it amuses me." She smiled.
"Ah," he sighed, stretching his legs out onto the coffee table. "Nothing like a closed case and a good movie to put a guy at ease."
"Is that all it takes?" she asked, tongue-in-cheek.
He grinned, "Well, I could think of one or two other things, of course." He bent his head down to kiss her.
"I bet you can," she said, and kissed him again, breaking away suddenly when she spied the movie again out of her peripheral vision. "Oh!" she said excitedly. "This should be good!"
He chuckled to himself and shook his head, "I've created a monster."
Ok, so I'm preparing you all now: As it stands now there is one more chapter of straight-up TIVA goodness before we head into the second stage, which is a little hard for me to describe, but basically it's the TIVA scenes from the first half of season four with Tony and Ziva's thoughts and some back story as it relates to the four months that I've created here. Whew!
Okay, so who's in the mood to review? Cuz I heard Einstein used to say that the number of reviews is directly proportional to the speed at which the author will post a new chapter...hehe. Thanks for reading!