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, two quick notes. Firstly, thank you to everyone who reviewed; I really needed the boost, because after I read them, I started writing again (despite the fact that I have midterms and papers and work…lol).
Secondly, this chapter sets up the approaching Tony-Ziva dynamic that we'll be mercilessly exploiting in the upcoming story arc. WARNING: Shameless contest-like plug at the end of the chapter—so stay tuned.
Read on, Friends!
The first thing Tony heard upon waking was the sound of Ziva's sigh. So much for putting off the conversation, he thought tiredly. He looked out through one squinted eye and saw Ziva wrapped up in the bed sheet, her hair splayed around her face provocatively, and a worried/preoccupied look upon her face. He reached out and took her hand in his, stopping its previously nervous twitching. "I can hear your mind buzzing from here," he said, a little amusement in his voice.
"We have to—"
"…Talk," he finished for her. "I know." He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, lingering there for a bit before replacing his lips with his cheek. "That's actually why I came here in the first place, but…"
She sighed ironically. "We seem to have gotten caught up," she said, smiling down at him a little.
He smiled back at her, brushing her hair back from her face with the backs of his fingertips. "Since the moment you opened that door tonight…" he began, letting his other hand trail down her side sensually. "…all I wanted to do was get…caught up," he admitted.
"And now?" she asked, almost not wanting the answer.
He shot her that patented DiNozzo grin, and shrugged. "Hey, I'd be perfectly content just to stay right here with you forever," he said, more than a little cocky. Then he sobered, his grin downgrading to a sad smile. "But something tells me we're not going to be able to do that…are we?"
She shook her head slowly, and brought her right hand up to his face, a sad expression marring her own.
He sighed regretfully, but nodded his understanding. He kissed her lips quickly, catching her off guard, before sitting up suddenly, fluffing the pillows behind him, and stretching in preparation for their conversation. "What do you want to know?" he finally asked her.
Just ask him, Ziva, she ordered herself. But she was terrified of the answer. One answer meant incredible pain and anger on her part—pain that she refused to allow to affect her, and anger that she would finally release upon him; and the other meant incredible complications on their part, potentially devastating consequences if handled incorrectly, but also, a return to the ease and comfort she felt when her day to day included secluded nights with her best friend…under the covers…and in darkness, she added morosely. She could face down crazed men three times her size, usually armed to the nines, and ready to kill her in an instant—and she could do it without fear—yet the thought of asking Tony the one question she needed to know, terrified her more than potentially anything else had. Because you fear the answer, she chastised herself. And because she feared the emotions that came with either answer…
"Ziva?" he asked, inclining his head down to get her attention, his tone prompting her for her own answer. "What do you want to know?" he repeated.
JUST DO IT! She swallowed hard and summoned every hardened edge within her, straightened her spine, and with a chilly glare looked into his eyes. "Are you here because you want to be here with me?—or because you cannot be with her?"
Oh boy, Tony thought. And then both their cells phones began to ring.
"So? What did he say?!?" Abby asked, practically screaming.
"I do not know," Ziva said, much more subdued than her companion. She traced the edge of her glass with her right index finger, idly.
"Huh?" Abby screeched, standing up and waving her arms in a typical overly-caffeinated-Abby-Schiuto move.
"Abby!" Ziva scolded, pulling the overzealous Goth back down into her chair, and placating the barman by signaling for another round.
"Ziva, how do you not know what he said? Did you…black out or something? Do you have narcolepsy? Oh, God, is that why he doesn't want to be with you?—the narcolepsy? That's so not cool; I can't believe Tony would do something like that. It can't be right Ziva, I mean Tony is—" But Ziva plastered her hand over the fast-talking rambler in front of her, cutting off any further rants for the immediate moment.
Ziva spoke slowly, enunciating each word in the hope that Abby would return to the more practical levels of reality. "Abby, I do not have narcolepsy, and that is not the reason Tony does not wish to be with me."
Abby nodded beneath Ziva's hand and after a moment's hesitation, Ziva lifted it from the Goth's mouth. She didn't get far though. "He told you he doesn't want to be with you? Oh, Ziva!" she cried, flinging her arms around the uncomfortable Mossad officer.
"Abby," she said stiffly, trying to gently free herself from the embrace. "Abby!" she said more forcefully. "Abby he did not say anything of the sort to me! I was merely trying to stop you from talking."
Abby stiffened slightly and then removed herself from Ziva. "He didn't say he didn't want to be with you?" she asked by way of confirmation. Ziva nodded. "So, then he said he did want to be with you?" she asked again. Ziva sighed in exhaustion as Abby hugged her again. "That's wonderful, Ziva; I'm so—" Ziva practically ripped herself free from Abby's arms. "—happy," Abby finished lamely.
"Abby, for the last time: Tony said nothing to me!" This time it was Ziva who was practically shouting. The barman gave her another dirty look, which she returned this time. I'm not buying anymore drinks, she decided testily. She knew she was being a bit short with Abby, but she could not seem to help it—she was just so frustrated with the way in which Abby automatically jumped to conclusions. She loved Abby for caring, but there were only so many times she could say the same thing in different words before she lost her temper. And she really much preferred Abby in one piece; and to her knowledge, so did Abby.
"I don't understand, Ziva. How could someone not say anything when asked such an important, monumental, gigantic, life-altering question?" Abby's voice was squeaky, but it remained at a reasonable decibel level—and she also managed to keep her seat this time. Her hands were flying in all directions, but Ziva decided that she'd take what she could get.
"Wecaudacase," she mumbled, using the straw in her Mojito to ignore answering the question, sucking down the last dregs of the drink until there was a rude slurping sound.
"What?" Abby asked, wrenching the glass from the other woman's hands, and ignoring the protest she made, or how ridiculous Ziva looked with a red straw stuck between her teeth as it bobbed outside her mouth.
"Abby!" Ziva protested, reaching for the glass petulantly.
"Ziva!" Abby mimicked in an equally juvenile manner. Both women sighed in tandem. Abby put the glass back down on the table as Ziva twisted the straw around her fingers, and ignored the look Abby was burning into her forehead. "What. Happened." she said, very seriously.
Ziva breathed deeply before answering. "We were called in; we caught a case literally the moment after I asked him," she said bitterly shaking her head. "So I did not get an answer, Abby; and I do not know what he wants."
"Ah," Abby said simply.
"Ah?" Ziva asked, astonishment playing on her face. "You have been jumping all around this bar for twenty minutes, leaping to all sorts of conclusions, mind you, and now that you have the details—your only response is: 'ah'?"
Abby just shrugged her shoulders. "Well—yeah." Then she sucked down her own drink.
Ziva shook her head in awe. Unbelievable, she screamed in her head, before shoving her hand in the air and motioning to the bartender. "Can I get a drink, please?!?!"
They hadn't spoken one non-work-related word to each other in over twenty-four hours. They'd gotten called in on a presumed B&E in a Navy home off-base. The wife of Navy Lieutenant Daniel Charmin was found by her neighbor unconscious on the kitchen floor, the home having been tossed, the furniture uprooted, glass shattered, and the Lieutenant's wife severely beaten.
The Lieutenant hadn't been reachable since they'd found his wife, which was incredibly suspicious, but the house had been plucked clean of valuables, which also made it less and less likely that the husband had been her attacker. And all of this could have been easily found out from Mrs. Charmin, except, of course, that she had as of yet to awaken.
"Boss!" McGee shouted, as Gibbs rounded the corner of the bullpen with his usual determined stride, stopping at his desk and tapping keys on his keyboards, motioning for McGee to go on. "Two days before the attack Metro PD got a 911 from a woman who reported hearing shouts and sounds of a fight coming from the Charmin house. She refused to identify herself, but she said she heard a man's voice railing on about how he was going to kill her if she left him."
Tony stood up and brought up photos of Elizabeth Charmin's injuries on the plasma. "Abusive husband pushes his wife too far, she decides to leave him, and when she does, he threatens her life if she goes through with it."
"Why are we just hearing about this now, McGee?" Gibbs asked, angrily.
McGee shook his head, "Report was never officially filed. The officers who responded to the call dubbed it a domestic disturbance and thought they were doing the Lieutenant a favor by not calling it in."
"They nearly got Elizabeth Charmin killed!" Ziva said through her teeth.
"Looks like Lieutenant Charmin did a good job of covering his tracks," Tony noted with a sour tone.
"I want this guy yesterday," Gibbs said, his fury a palpable entity at the moment.
"I'll go through his personnel file again," Ziva stated, bringing up the necessary information on her screen. "Perhaps there is something I overlooked."
Tony returned to his desk as well. "I got a list of his friends and relatives, boss; I'll start calling around—see what I can get."
Gibbs looked to McGee who gulped and began typing away. "Checking into his banking, cellular, and e-mail records, boss."
Gibbs grabbed his jacket and stalked out of the bullpen.
"Boss?" Tony called after him inquisitively.
"Going to talk to his C/O, DiNozzo!" Gibbs called back over his shoulder, never breaking stride.
"Of course, boss…"
"Sit-rep!" Gibbs ordered as he made his way back into the bullpen and throwing his jacket off.
"Nothing."
"Nothing."
"Nothing.
Ziva stood up first. "His career is pristine, his evaluations flawless. His commanding officers have only the highest praise for him, and his men hold him in high esteem."
Tony flashed three pictures onto the plasma as he narrated his portion of the program. "He's got three sisters, all younger, and all happily married—in other states. His father's deceased, but his mother's alive, currently residing in sunny Florida. She hasn't heard from him in three days, but says that's not uncommon as," he paused and cleared his throat, "he knows not to call on game-days."
The entire team turned to look at him with various emotions splayed on all their faces. McGee looked confused (as if Tony had gone crazy). Ziva looked confused too but the look on her face, Tony knew, was the confusion that occurred when she believed she'd incorrectly translated something. Gibbs just looked annoyed.
Tony cleared his throat and shrugged awkwardly before continuing on to explain. "Apparently, Mother Charmin is highly active in her retirement community's weekly card circuit and hears from all her children every Sunday—after brunch and mimosas with the girls."
"Sounds like Mother knows how to party," Ziva commented dryly.
"McGee?" Gibbs prompted brusquely.
"Uh, Lieutenant Charmin gets his checks direct deposited every pay period and then four days later, like clockwork, checks go out for phone, electric, water, and so on. His credit cards show no recent or sudden activity; he hasn't withdrawn any cash, and there's no record of him having any type of safety deposit box. His cell phone is off and the last call he made was a few hours before the attack. No e-mails of interest."
"This guy doesn't just fall off the face of the planet…find him!" he yelled at all three of them.
"Uh, boss?" Tony said hesitantly, looking over his shoulder.
"What, DiNozzo?" he barked in return.
Tony pointed behind Gibbs towards the elevator bank. "Found him."
"Gibbs was really fired up about this one," McGee noted from his post behind the glass in the observation room, watching Ziva stare down their suspect.
"Very astute, Probie," Tony said sarcastically. "That's a real breakthrough, there, McGoo," he added mockingly, patting him on the back with fake congratulations.
McGee shook off Tony's patronizing hand with a shrug and a roll of his eyes. "I simply meant, if Gibbs wanted this guy so badly, why is he letting Ziva do the interrogation?"
"Because if he really is a wife-beater, McGee," Gibbs said from behind him, prompting both he and Tony to straighten their form out of habit. "Then he's not going to react well to a woman in a position of power."
McGee nodded in understanding. "He'll see our placement of a strong woman as emasculation and lash out. Got it, boss."
And there's no one as strong as Ziva, Tony noted to himself sadly as he watched her make Lieutenant Charmin shrink back into himself. Trust me…
"How's my wife? Is she okay?" Ziva's eyes ticked up to his face, not moving any other part of her body. "Please," he begged, "Just tell me!"
"Your wife was very severely beaten; she is currently in a coma, and on a ventilator."
He cringed and dropped his head into his hands. "Will she be okay?"
Ziva stood up abruptly and began to circle the Lieutenant as he sat. "I answered your question. Now you will answer mine. What happened to your wife and where have you been?"
"Will she be okay?" he asked, his temper barely contained as he gritted his teeth.
She stopped circling him, coming to an abrupt halt right behind him and slamming down her right hand on the table, right next to the Lieutenant's. "What happened to your wife, Lieutenant?" she screamed.
"Please," he said, barely holding it together. "Just tell me that she'll be okay and I'll tell you whatever you want!"
"You will tell me either way," she threatened, leaning down to whisper loudly in his ear. "And the longer you make me wait, the less patience I will exercise with you." She stood up again and began to act as if everything were perfectly fine. She tossed her hair and stood nonchalantly with her back to the observation room. "And I have been told I am a less than desirable person to be around when my patience begins to run thin."
"I didn't hurt my wife," he wailed. "I loved her!"
"Loved," Ziva asked, stressing his use of the past-tense. "Your wife is not dead, Lieutenant."
"I loved her and she betrayed me!" he screamed.
"So you killed her," Ziva finished for him, leading him towards a confession.
"NO! No, I—I couldn't. No matter what she did I could never…not to my Liz." He was shaking his head manically, seemingly quite adamant about not harming his wife.
"It was that son of a bitch she was seeing while I was deployed!" he raged. "I'm sure of it. She was going to…to cut him out of our lives; she promised me she would. So I left for the weekend, just took off because when I came back—everything would be okay again. She promised…"
"Your wife was sleeping with another man and you did not feel anger towards her? Not even once?"
"Of course I was angry! I was furious!" He started shaking his head again. "But I'd never hurt her."
Ziva leaned down to his eye level. "Even though she hurt you—betrayed you?"
He stiffened his lip and looked her right in the eye. "I didn't hurt my wife, ma'am. But I can sure as hell tell you who did!"
"He says the man she was seeing was a Metro Police Officer. He doesn't know whom specifically; she would not tell him that," Ziva said in summary as they all observed Lieutenant Charmin in interrogation.
"Probably thought he'd kill the bastard," Tony remarked darkly.
"If this guy's Metro PD then he's probably got eyes and ears on her, boss," McGee surmised.
Tony nodded in agreement. "Maybe waiting to finish the job—that amount of rage doesn't just go away."
"DiNozzo, protection detail—take Ziva." They both nodded and left together, not speaking, but in sync nonetheless. "McGee, give Bethesda security a heads-up and find me the link between Liz Charmin and this Metro cop!" he barked, slamming out of the room.
"On it, boss…" McGee said softly, and left for Abby's lab.
Tony and Ziva hadn't spoken to each other yet. The car ride was dead-silent. They had not even fought over who would drive the car—something that truly marked the severity of the communication breakdown between the two partners.
It was only thirty minutes later when the pair sat side-by-side in chairs at Liz Charmin's beside that Tony thought to break the nearly thirty hour silence. "I hate hospitals," he announced suddenly.
"I know; you told me." Though you did manage to spend quite a bit of time there over the past few months, she chided him silently, knowing no true good could come from such a comment at this juncture.
"Too many bad memories."
"You said it was like…" she hesitated, trying to remember the phrase that she had not understood then…or even now. "—like 'acid flashbacks without all of the pretty colors,' yes?"
"Yeah," he said, slightly disarmed. Then he chuckled lightly. "That sounds like me alright." This silence must end, he groaned inwardly. "Ziva—"
She stood up suddenly, trying to avoid this conversation right now at all costs. "I still do not understand that turn of phrase—acid flashback—but apparently—" He stood up and grabbed her arm, spinning her around gently and said her name forcefully. "Tony, do not do this now—not here," she said, motioning to the woman lying unconscious next to them; the woman they were there to protect.
"I'm thinking she's not going to mind much, Ziva," he said sharply.
"That is a completely insensitive thing to say, Tony!"
"Well add it to the long list of ass-like behaviors I've taken upon myself to exhibit lately!" he yelled at her. Get mad, Ziva, pleaded. Get mad at me…
"Keep your voice down!" she told him firmly, attempting to move away from him but finding instead, that not only was he blocking her path, but he would not relinquish his hold on her arm. She looked down at where his hand held tightly onto her arm and nailed him with a glare. "We do not speak for a day and a half and this," she said, motioning to his hold on her arm, "is your best idea on how to—"
"No," he said, anticipating her question. "No, Ziva, it's not my best idea; it was my only idea. Every time I've gone to talk to you since the other night you've completely shut down and shut yourself off from me."
"Did you ever take the time to stop and think that that was done on purpose?" she asked accusingly.
"I know you, Ziva; of course I did—but that doesn't mean I like it or that we could go around in this holding pattern forever, Ziva…" He shook his head sadly and released her.
It seemed as if the moment he did so, all the anger she had drained from her. "I am not a mind reader, Tony; but I do know you as well. And this," she said, pointing to his sagging shoulders and sad expression, "is not the face of a happy man." He groaned and sat back down in his chair, without leaning back. He remained on the edge of his seat with his elbows stationed on his knees, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I would not fault you your grief, Tony," she said softly, "Nor would I fault you if the other night was merely a way to…self-soothe," she finished, forcing out the words with everything she had left in her.
His eyes shot up to her face, shock playing on his face. That's what she thinks? Then he mentally head-slapped himself. Of course that's what she thinks, you idiot!
Ziva straightened her spine and took a deep breath. You will get this out, Ziva David! You will not let this lay rotting between you two any longer than it already has! "I need you to tell me if that is the case, though, Tony. And if it is…I will—"
"Stop," he said, shaking his head.
"Yes," she said. "We will stop…if you tell me to."
"No," he said, shaking his head more forcefully and looking up at her with anger and shame. "No, Ziva, stop! Stop being nice to me! All throughout this all you've done is be understanding and supportive when you should be tearing me limb from limb!" he argued.
She was completely stunned. "Is that a request?" she asked sarcastically, trying to cover her complete and utter confusion.
"It's not funny, Ziva! I lied to you; I hurt you; I betray—"
"You did not betray me, Tony!" she said with brutal honesty. He went to interject but she cut him off. "Yes! Yes, you lied; and yes…you hurt me—but you did not betray me, Tony. We had no commitment to one another and you were doing your—"
"Don't say I was doing my job, Ziva! I don't think I could stand hearing you defending me yet again."
She sighed and collected herself. She folded her hands in front of her and took in the sight of him, so strong and miserable at the same time. "What do you want me to say, then, Tony?—because of the many things you have done lately, betraying me is not one that I'd count among them." He said nothing, so she said it again, wanting nothing more than for him to hear the conviction in her voice. "You did not betray me, Tony."
"Then why does it feel like I did?" he asked her sadly.
Oh, that is it; that is enough, she said to herself, fed up with this cryptic line of conversation. She walked over to him and bent down on one knee, grabbing his face in between her hands forcefully, and surprising him. "I have had enough of cryptic conversations, Tony," she told him. "Answer my question—once and for all." He just looked at her, wondering how best to explain what he so desperately wanted her understand. She took his silence for petulance, and repeated the question she'd asked two nights ago. "Were you there because you wanted to be there with me?—or because you could not be with her?"
"Both," he said, looking her in the eyes.
She shook her head forcefully. "You cannot have it both ways, Tony; it is either one or the other and it is time you told me your answer…right now."
He hesitated and swallowed hard. "I wanted to be with you, Ziva—because I could never truly be with her…the way I can be with you."
She swallowed hard, her emotions going crazy because she still didn't know what that meant. She stood up and shook her head at him, getting a little angry. "I do not know what that means, Tony!"
He stood up as well and grabbed her hands, keeping them in his own as he forced her to look at him. "It means that for every moment I was with her there was another moment where all I wanted was you. Because I can be me in every possible way with you, Ziva—and that was made all the more clearer to me by the fact that I was always hiding something from Jeanne. Everything I told her had to be scripted and then edited for content because I wasn't allowed to be me. Five minutes ago I told you how much I hate hospitals, and not only did you already know, but you knew why—the real reason and not some stupid story about being scarred as a child by one inane thing or another. You know I almost died in a hospital and you know how and what from. You know I won't put on my left shoe before I put on my right shoe. You know that I only put peanut butter on both sides of my PB&J because otherwise the jelly makes the bread soggy and it falls apart." He took a breath and looked at her…hard. His words washed over Ziva and little by little she started to understand the point he was trying to make. "You know I only drink coffee—"
"—When you are bossing people around, or are incredibly tired," she finished, starting to see and appreciate his point.
He nodded, and brought his right hand up to the side of her face, brushing her hair out of the way. "You know this stuff, Ziva, because you…know me. So, yes; I wanted to be with you—because being with her was just…wrong."
She nodded and inhaled deeply. "Okay—you wanted to be with me the other night. But what about the rest of our nights, Tony?" she asked, holding her breath.
He opened his mouth to say something, but in a true salute to the impeccable timing they'd been experiencing lately—his cell phone rang. He groaned and fished it out of his pocket. "DiNozzo!" he barked into the phone unhappily. "Got it," he said to the caller, his tone softer now. "McGee tracked down our abusive cop; he and Gibbs just picked him up—we're done here."
They stared at each other for a moment—each thinking about what they could say to the other right now. Ziva spoke first—and last. "To be continued…" she said with a bitter laugh before leaving the room and heading towards their car, not needing to turn around to know that Tony was right behind her…
So, what did you think? I had a really hard time trying to keep it true to form. I must have re-written it about five different times in an attempt to keep them as purely Tony and Ziva as possible. Let me know, because I'd like your opinions on the successes and failures of my plotting. Haha.
In other news, I have high hopes that you all will like the upcoming plot line, and I would be happy to entertain guesses, if you so wish. Perhaps a special prize for the first correct guess? I'm horrible, I know—it's such a shameful way of getting more reviews…but what can I say? I like it when you guys tell me what worked and what didn't and what you'd like to see—it keeps me motivated and you reading. ;)
Until next time!