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:
Okay, guys, so in honor of my 21st Birthday today, I want all of us to celebrate with a brand new chapter! There is a whole slew of absolutely new storylines in this chapter and they're all starting the original storylines I have planned.
Be warned, there is a flashback inside a flashback in this chapter, so I hope that no one will get lost in all the time-travel… ;) I can't wait to hear what you all think!
Enjoy!
It had been three days since Tony melted down in the elevator with Ziva. Since then, Gibbs had kept him riding the desk, something with which Tony initially took great issue, but also something with which Tony eventually agreed with. If Tony had been out in the field following leads with McGee and Ziva, he would have wholly avoided the serious thinking he'd been afforded—more like forced, actually—the opportunity to do while sitting in the squad room day after day. It was like rapid detox. Yes, had he been allowed out in the field, he would have eventually worked through the landslide of thoughts and emotions that ran through his head—the keyword being eventually. But even Tony could see that Gibbs's benching him hadn't necessarily been the incredibly horrible punishment he'd originally thought it to be. That's not to say that it hadn't been an incredibly tumultuous and painful three days, but it had been productive—that much Tony couldn't possibly deny.
But he also couldn't deny that there was some serious tension building these days—between everyone. After the attempted assassination of Rene Benoit's daughter, the FBI had to cop to the credible threat that existed for the entire Benoit family; and seeing as how without the solid "sale" of ARES, the FBI has no case against the traitor Trent Kort, La Grenouille was the only person who could help to bring Kort to justice—just as soon as someone caught the sneaky bastard. As a result, Benoit got what he wanted in the end—blanket protection for his entire family, and that came in the form of the witness protection program, and not in the form of unimaginable discomfort for the arms dealer locked away in a federal penitentiary.
After nearly a decade of chasing the man she believed to have killed her father, Director Jenny Shepard had been forced to release him into the custody of the FBI, where they would pack him and his entire family away in some cushy little life, away from the wrath of the justice system, and out of reach of the wrath of one Jennifer Shepard.
It allowed for a number of problems really. Firstly, it made for an extremely irritable NCIS Director. Secondly, it made for an icy atmosphere, especially when the Director was in the same general vicinity as Gibbs; she seemed to associate him with the deal that ruined her life, as he'd helped to facilitate the deal that Fornell had brokered with Benoit—so that made him 'undesirable number one' around here, which was interesting considering that he was holding a retaliatory grudge against her for the way she'd manipulated the situation…and Tony. Thirdly, without Benoit out there to use as leverage or bait, the investigation into the bombing was left at a standstill as they'd run out of leads, clues, and bad guys. This meant, of course, that not only did they not have Kort in custody, but they had no leads as to his whereabouts, and most embarrassingly, they had no idea who had perished in Tony's car that day.
And, of course, there was still the situation between Tony and Ziva. It was awkward and very much off-kilter, for lack of a better word. They hadn't talked about what Tony had told her in the elevator and they hadn't addressed the gargantuan elephant in the room that had the words "The Conversation" spray-painted on it in neon green calligraphy.
And if all this weren't enough—"Give me a dollar!" Abby demanded of McGee as she barreled into the squad room—Abby was…going through something.
Tony and Ziva shared a concerned and quizzical look.
"Okay," McGee said, "What's wrong with that one?" he asked, gesturing to the dollar Abby already had in her hands.
"The machine wouldn't take it and I want a candy bar!" she announced stubbornly, almost angry that he'd asked the question at all.
Wow, McGoo, just give the girl the dollar, you idiot, Tony thought, baffled as to why he seemed to be gearing up to grill her some more when it was clear Abby wasn't exactly…Abby.
"What's wrong with that candy bar?" he asked, completely ignoring both the signs of danger ahead, as well as Tony's silent warning.
Uh-oh, Tony thought, suddenly taken aback by Abby's sudden change in…everything.
"It has nougat in it!" she roared, looking for all intents and purposes as though she were about to maul him.
"What?" he continued to question, in his unending stupidity. "You hate nougat."
"I know!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking as though she either had been or was about to cry. "It was a mistake, McGee! Do you have a dollar!?"
It is like watching a lioness devour her prey, Ziva thought in her head, completely puzzled as to what had sparked this…insanity…in Abby (and why McGee seemed so obtuse as to how to handle an obviously volatile situation)—and most importantly, she was absolutely clueless as to what this horrible nougat was.
McGee checked his wallet and shook his head. "All I have are big bills," he said finally.
"What is nougat?" Ziva asked.
Tony was in shock, his mouth hanging open a bit, and his voice filled with concerned mysticism. "It's whipped dolphin fat," he breathed softly by way of explanation.
Ziva nodded a bit but quirked an uncertain eyebrow up as she tried to process the new information in terms of the scene before her.
McGee shook his head at Tony, "No, that's the filling in Clownie Cake."
That just made Abby worse. "That is a MYTH!" she screamed, outraged and indignant—almost as if McGee had insulted her mother. She'd had enough, apparently, because that's when she snapped, stood smack-dab in the middle of the bullpen, and screamed at the absolute top of her lungs, "Would someone please give me a dollar?!"
You could hear crickets chirping in Tony's head as he stared at Abby, at a complete loss for any deductive train of thought. Give dollar, a voice in his head instructed. Give dollar NOW. "Sure, I've got one," he said calmly, holding out his hand, expecting to receive the dud of a bill from Abby in exchange—and finding himself out of luck, his mouth agape in shock as Abby left the bullpen.
"God, it's like some kind of crime to not like nougat…"
Ziva was still confused. "I don't even know what nougat is!" she demanded.
"It's a cream made from sugar, honey and nuts," Gibbs said, coffee in hand as he rounded the corner and plucked up his coat from his desk. "Grab your gear," he ordered, heading back out towards the elevators. "We have an explosion at a Marine's funeral in J. Hoover National."
McGee looked from one teammate to the other, his expression one of complete and utter astonishment. "Did anyone else see what just happened there with Abby?"
"Yeah," Tony said, a little bit bitter. "She stole my dollar…"
By the end of the exhaustive case very few things had changed. The Director was still bitterly punishing Gibbs, Gibbs was still none-too-thrilled with Jenny because of he viewed her treatment of Tony as taking advantage of the situation so that she could play out an international war game only to cry foul when she ended up getting more than she bargained for. Additionally, Tony and Ziva still hadn't talked about anything that didn't include crime scene photos, evidence, or perps.
Abby had managed to begin moving past her own personal ordeal—with a little help from Gibbs—and it had given her a better perspective on the events of the past few months. Somehow, in the past five days she'd started to see her surroundings and the people in it more clearly. As a forensic scientist she was trained to find and suss out what others worked very hard at keeping secret. True, usually she was working with cold hard facts, science, and mass spectrometers; but that didn't mean that she was any less effective at her job when it came to live human beings and the lives they lead—especially when the humans in question were those closest to her.
The doors to Abby's inner lab opened as she stepped out into the main area, surprised but not unhappy to see Ziva crossing her threshold. "Still at work?" she asked, a small, hesitant smile playing on her lips, unsure in the face of Abby's recent mood swings.
Abby smiled, grateful to see the other woman now that she had figured a few things out—about herself and Ziva alike. "Yeah. I was just catching up on some things."
Ziva nodded politely and lifted the evidence bag she had, placing it on the table in front of her. "Cheek swabs." She took a step back and then cocked her head, a much bigger smile shining through now. "Hey, your music's back on," she observed, glad to see Abby back to her usual more perky self. "You're feeling good again?"
Abby made the so-so gesture with her head, bobbing it a little from side to side and waving her hand to match the movement. "Maybe not good. Not yet," she clarified, nodding reassuringly. "But better. You know, um… sometimes a guy can get you all tied up inside?" she asked, a little apprehensive at broaching this particular topic with Ziva. But Gibbs helped me, she reminded herself, plugging on regardless of her uneasiness at encroaching on the other woman's personal space and sense of security.
A slightly bitter look crossed Ziva's face as she thought about it with a mental shake of her head and a sigh as well. Tied up, twisted up, and ready to strangle him, yourself, or anyone who gets in your way? I think I know something about that, she thought, a little bit edgier than she would have preferred in the face of her attempt to remain emotionally ambivalent. "Yes," she said simply, feeling uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation was going.
Abby took a sympathetic step forwards and softened her tone. "And then you can't get the knots out…" she led knowingly.
Ziva swallowed hard, willing herself to remain calm, intact, and above all, emotionless. But it wasn't working. She kept flashing back to Tony and the way he'd been with her lately. The way he's been since…No. She shook herself out of her inner trance, desperately striving to stay away from those memories because they hurt too much. Not hurt, she clarified for herself. …Ache. Regardless, she nodded again, her eyes downcast and as far from Abby's seemingly knowing stare as possible. "Yes."
"Well, it just really helped me to talk things out with Gibbs, you know, and unknot the knots."
Unknotting the knots…how idyllic…and impossible, it seems.
"'Cause even if you don't let it show," Abby said, giving her a pointed stare, "…people can still tell." Ziva began to panic for a moment, but shook herself, not thinking that Abby could have known much about the situation at all. "So you know, if you ever want to talk about…"
Ziva looked up at her, surprised that Abby trailed off, as if she'd thought better of saying whatever it was she had planned on saying. "About…?" she prompted. Still, Abby hesitated. Ziva took a tentative step forward. "Abby?" she asked gently, now curious as to Abby's motivation.
Abby looked up and right into Ziva's eyes. "Tony," she said, her words confident and firm. "If you ever want to talk about you and…Tony, I'm here."
Ziva quickly launched into a denial, shaking her head, and working to brush off the idea as ridiculous; but Abby wasn't buying it. "Ziva," Abby said strongly, "I'm not trying to cause a problem or stir up trouble for either one of you. I just meant that…it helped…ya know, talking with Gibbs, and I figured that you probably don't have anyone you can talk to about him," she said, omitting his name in deference to the Mossad Liaison's nervousness. "But, you do; and I wouldn't ever tell anyone anything you didn't want anyone to know…or not know." She shook her head and motioned with her hands to forget that part. "I'm rambling, as I always am, but—I'm here, and if you wanna talk, then I wanna listen." Ziva didn't make any movement—a little too unnerved from the bombshell Abby had just dropped on her.
Ziva and Abby slapped their shot glasses back down on the bar at the same time, perfectly in sync after their second round. They both winced as the alcohol burned their throats on its way down. "Okay," Ziva said, her throat still a little bit on fire from the whiskey. "How did you find out?" she asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer she'd get in response.
"To be fair," Abby began, "I really don't know anything in terms of details or really anything pertaining to what may or may not have occurred. That isn't to say, of course, that I don't know that something happened, cuz I may have been blind up till now, but there's no more wool over these babies," she said, motioning and referring to her eyes.
"So…you know nothing," Ziva extrapolated.
Abby shook her head vigorously, "Not nothing per se—just no details. Except that whatever has you both acting so awkward—"
"Abby," Ziva chastised, very much wanting to get to the point.
Abby sighed in response. "I know that something happened to make you both look at each other with eyes so sad it makes my sides hurt." That surprised Ziva, who shifted uncomfortably on her barstool. "I know that when Tony looks at you his eyes glaze over like he's getting high on just the image of you; and when he zones out after you've said something to him—well, let's just say that the head space into which he retreats seems to have your name written all over it…if those glazed looks are any kind of indicator."
Ziva licked her lips, feeling suddenly dizzy, and not from the alcohol, though it had created a comforting hum in her head, dulling the ache she'd been experiencing in her chest as of late. "Abby…"
"And I know that he's not the only one zoning out," she hinted pointedly. Ziva looked abashed. "Not that it's anything to be ashamed or embarrassed of, Ziva," she hurried on to say. "Just that—you wanted to know how I found out or what I knew; that's what I know."
Ziva gave a bitter laugh as she realized exactly to what Abby was referring. It had been happening a lot in the past week—ever since the disastrous Benoit case blew up in everyone's faces. Take lunchtime the other day for instance…
It was McGee's turn to get lunch that day—for all of them, including Abby. He'd gone out to Umberto's to get subs and when he'd come back with the large bag of food everyone attacked him in a frenzy to feed their faces before the next crisis could arise and keep them from satisfying their growling stomachs.
Abby and McGee brought chairs over to sit in between Tony's and Ziva's desks, all four of them sitting together in a semi-circle, devouring their food as quickly as possible. In her haste, Ziva had gotten some tomato sauce on her upper lip and it had gone unnoticed; well, unnoticed by her at least. And then like that she was shot back in time to a place in her life where she was genuinely happy and content…
"Come on—taste it!" he said, holding out a wooden spoon.
She smiled and politely redirected the taste-test. "I do not trust your cooking, Tony."
Tony bristled. "Ho-hum! Look who's a cooking snob, Miss—"
"Yes?" Ziva asked, stepping closer, a dangerous tone in her voice but a playful look in her eyes.
Tony swallowed hard and stammered, retracting his sauce-covered spoon and backpedaling. "See, when I said cooking-snob, I—well, I meant it in the best possible way, of course…"
"Of course," she agreed, stepping right into him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Tony grinned and wrapped her in his arms. "Officer David, it seems you have other things on your mind besides insulting my cooking."
She nodded and reached around to the side to fiddle with his sauce. "I suppose you could say that, yes."
He bent down and lightly touched his lips to hers. She smiled into him and nipped at his lower lip. He growled playfully and then stuck on the very lip that had just been attacked before he pouted like a tiny puppy with big, round eyes. "You really won't taste my sauce Zee-vah?"
She chuckled and took the spoon from the pot, bringing it to his lips instead. He swallowed and licked his lips dramatically, kissing his fingers in the process. "Delizioso!" She put more in his mouth and then kissed him, locking her hands together behind his head. The spoon slipped from her fingers and landed with a small clatter…but neither noticed. Tony brought both of his hands up to encircle her face as the kiss intensified. Ziva let a small moan escape her lips as she strived to get closer to him though she knew there was no more space between the two to span. They were as close as two people—that is, two fully-clothed people—could get, and still they both pawed at the other, hoping to bring the other one in just a little bit more. Tony broke off first and inhaled deeply, leaning his forehead against Ziva's as they both took heaving breaths in symphony. Tony chuckled and swiped at the corner of Ziva's mouth with his thumb, sticking it in his mouth and sucking it with a 'smack-y' sound. "You have sauce all over your mouth, now."
She smiled and he swiped at her mouth again, but Ziva caught his fist with both hands and brought his thumb to her own mouth. As she licked off the sauce she allowed her tongue to devilishly torture him as she sucked and nibbled. A throaty moan escaped him as he moved to bring her back to him and replace his captured digit with his lips instead. They kissed again until Ziva broke off, returning to her previous agenda by placing tiny, torturous kisses all around his mouth, taking a nibble here and there. She placed small kisses along his jaw line, moving towards his ear, and dropped her voice an octave or two allowing her breath to tickle the tiny hairs there. "Mmm, you were right."
"Hm?" he asked, now completely distracted by her ministrations.
"Your sauce; it is quite…delicious." She gave a small yet wicked laugh as she felt him shiver in reaction to her.
"Okay, that's it," he said, as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards his bed.
She gave a huge laugh and smiled with her entire face, successfully lighting up her eyes in the process. "What about your sauce, Tony?"
He plopped her down on the bed and she landed with a bounce and an excited chuckle. "To hell with the sauce," he claimed seriously as he made his way towards her like a predator stalking his prey.
"Oh really?" she said, playing a particularly dangerous brand of coy as she straddled his waist.
He caught her in his grasp and flipped her over so he was on top of her. She laughed again as he raised her blouse and started placing sloppy kisses on her stomach. "I have other delicious endeavors to look forward to…"
"Yo! Mossad-Girl!" Ziva jolted a little, having been startled from her thoughts and unsure as to who was addressing her. Tony waved his hand up and down in front of her face, the epitome of obnoxious behavior. "ZIVA!"
"What!?!" Ziva shook herself and tugged on the bottom of her shirt, a fire-red flash of heat making its way up her neck, making her a little self-conscious. "What?" she asked again, her voice more modulated this time.
Tony shook his head and smiled, laughing at her completely stricken face—no matter how hard she tried to conceal it from him. "I said you've got sauce on your mouth." He pointed to the corner of her mouth and wiggled his finger, winking in her direction before taking an obscene bite of his sandwich with the other hand—and nearly choking on it when he realized the implication of what he'd just done.
Inside the privacy of her head Ziva screamed and wanted nothing more than to run from the bullpen and completely douse herself in cold water. Then she would slap herself silly for allowing herself to be caught up in the foolishness of these daydreams down memory lane. That highway is closed, she reminded herself vehemently, but not without feeling that dull ache in her chest that had been such a frequent and unwelcome visitor as of late. She wiped her mouth, dumped the rest of her meatball sub in the trash and left the bullpen, making sure to avoid Abby and McGee on her way past them towards any destination that took her further away from the memories that she'd been working so hard to bury.
Tony just looked at her retreating form with regret. He could've kicked himself for not thinking before speaking…or doing. Way to go, DiNozzo, he self-scolded. You just can't seem to stop inflicting suffering around here, can you? He grabbed up his garbage can and spit out the contents of his mouth, the sandwich having turned rotten the second he realized his misstep. Then he thought better of it and tossed out the entire sandwich. He too had lost his appetite…
"I'm sorry?" Abby squeaked, unable to comprehend what Ziva was telling her. "Wait! You're telling me it's been months?—months that I've noticed nothing?" Abby couldn't believe she'd been so blind.
Ziva chuckled lightly but of course, it had her now all-too-often bitter edge to it. "Do not feel too bad, Abby; we did work hard to keep it…concealed," she finished sadly before throwing back another shot.
A few moments of silence passed while Ziva wallowed and Abby considered how best to phrase what she wanted to say. "Ya know, there was a while there, where I thought that Tony would…well, that he'd end up with…with Kate." Ziva flinched and Abby pretended not to notice. "It's the same formula, I suppose; they were always together, harping on each other, sniping—but relying on each other."
"Partners," Ziva supplied, her throat feeling very constricted at that moment.
"Yeah," Abby said. "He pretended to be her worst nightmare, and maybe to her he was, but he was protective of her…"
Ziva was getting very uncomfortable hearing this for a multitude of reasons ranging from the fact that she didn't especially enjoy picturing Tony with someone else—or even discussing Tony's emotions about someone else—all the way to the tiny fact that Kate had died at Ari's hand, and that fact, of course, reminded her that Ari had died at hers. "Abby…" Ziva started, trying to end this particular line of discussion.
"I know," Abby stressed. She knew this wasn't what Ziva wanted to hear, but there was something she definitely needed to hear. "I know this isn't something you think you want to hear—"
"Abby…"
"—but there's a point Ziva—" Ziva took a deep breath, several in fact, and worked hard to collect herself before she motioned for Abby to continue—giving the observant Goth the benefit of the doubt. "—the point is that no matter how protective of her he was, no matter how much I pictured them together one day…he never ever looked at her the way I've seen him look at you." Ziva looked up sharply, at a complete loss for words. "And he's an idiot for thinking that any mission the Director could give him would do more for him than you would."
Ziva just nodded very slowly, not sure that Abby's words—though kind and moving—had helped anything in the least. In fact, they seemed to make the ache in her chest throb all the more…
Can I interest anyone in reviewing?—I really want to hear what you guys think about this chapter and any ideas, theories, or thoughts you have about where the story's going.
In the spirit of full disclosure, there is so much left of this story to tell—I have big plans for our duo and I hope you all will be as excited to read them as I as I am to write them.