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, here's the next installment. Spoilerific rant about the finale at the end.
Ziva reached up behind her head with her right hand and pulled apart the Velcro that secured the sling around her neck, sighing with relief at being free of the constraint as well as a being free of the pressure on her neck. She slid it slowly from her arm, and tossed it onto the chair in the corner. "Freedom," she breathed dramatically.
"It's only for the night," Tony reminded her from his place on his side of the bed.
"Yes," she agreed begrudgingly, crawling into bed gently, clad only in a long NCIS t-shirt. "However, the only time I am to remove it is when I sleep—so you will just have to forgive me if I get excited before bed, Tony."
Tony screwed up his face, a little offended. "That's the reason you get excited before crawling into bed with me every night?"
"For the next few weeks it is," she said, laughing at the face he made. She dropped a quick kiss on his lips and snuggled in beneath the covers, rolling to her right and closing her eyes. "Goodnight, Tony."
"Goodnight, Tony?" he huffed, his voice squeaky with astonishment. "Seriously?!"
Ziva woke up a little after two in the morning, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. She'd had another night terror. Ever since the explosion she'd been reliving her childhood memories of Ari only to have him die before her suddenly—usually very angry and dying from wounds she herself had inflicted. Ziva took a deep breath as she swung her legs out of bed and got up to wash her face in the bathroom.
The cool water felt good against her hot skin, but nothing she did could make her feel any better inside. Her dreams had been getting increasingly more intense. At first, she had just been reliving the shooting; then she began to relive the shooting with her evil doppelganger taunting her; and now she was slowly being tortured, forced to remember all the good things about her brother—about how much he loved her and she loved him—before she'd be forced, once again, to blow his head off.
She was a strong woman—hard-headed, stubborn, righteous, dedicated, and determined not to show weakness—but there was only so much pressure even she could withstand before the dam broke wide open and the flood waters drowned her.
Tony appeared beside her, clad only in a pair of black sweatpants, his chest bare to her eyes. "You okay?" he asked. His voice was groggy from sleep. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his head gently resting on top of hers, effectively surrounding her body with his.
She leaned back into him. "Did I wake you?" she asked him, his presence quieting her anxiety a bit.
He shook his head. "Woke up and you weren't there," he clarified. "Something wrong?"
She leaned her head back against his chest and closed her eyes, sighing. "Bad dream. Nothing to worry about, though," she assured him. "Except, of course, that I now require a shower," she added bitterly.
"Now?" he asked, thinking it a little strange. "Clock's set for zero-five; you don't want to try to get some more sleep?"
She shook her head and moved out of his arms to start the shower. "I have my appointment to see Lieutenant Alexander at Bethesda this morning."
"Right," he said, scrubbing the sleep from his face as he yawned. "Removing your stitches…"
"Not all of them," she said pointedly as she handed him the plastic covering she used to keep her arm dry when she bathed.
"Hey now, none of that," he scolded jokingly as he wrapped it around her arm gently and made sure it was secure. "You made it through last week with almost relative ease…" she gave him a skeptical look. "…Minus a few violent outbursts." He shot her a silly smile and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Think of it this way—one week down, only another two to four to go," he said with a wink, laughing when he heard her groan.
"You are not helping, Tony…"
Ziva waited very patiently in the procedure room. She'd never gone back to sleep so she was taking advantage of being able to close her eyes and relax while she waited for the naval doctor who had operated on her to join her. She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew Lieutenant Alexander was staring at her with an amused expression on his face.
"Sorry," she apologized, sitting up straight on the exam table.
He waved it off. "No worries; I apologize for the wait, Officer David," he told her with a friendly smile.
"Ziva," she corrected, placing her palm to her chest.
He nodded once in thanks. "How're you doing, Ziva? Any troubles? Any undue pain?"
She shook her head as he examined her arm. "Not at all—outside of the inconvenience," she told him pointedly.
"Not liking the desk, I see," he commented with a smile.
"It is not my cup of tea," she said in a clipped tone. "I am used to being more useful. And the sling prevents me from doing even desk work efficiently," she complained bitterly. "Typing for instance…" she hinted.
He examined the arm, had her extend it as far as she could, and tested her reflexivity. "Well, your range of motion seems good, and you say you're not in pain—I'd say you could take the sling off to type," he told her with a wink. "But don't overdue it," he went on to warn her. "If you put too much strain on it too quickly, you'll set yourself back with some less-than-convenient results. Understood?"
She nodded. "Understood."
"Alright then," he said, sitting on a short stool on wheels and sliding back over to her. "By my count, we have three stitches to remove from your side, four to remove from your forearm, and a whopping twelve stitches to remove from the facial laceration over your eye."
"Lovely," she said dryly.
Tony had dropped her off at Bethesda on his way in to work that morning since she still was not permitted to drive. Tony had argued with her that morning, saying that he'd wait for her to be finished and then drive her to work. She told him that his heart was in the right place but that for the sake of their careers he was going to have to remove his head from his ass. They'd already pushed their luck with the time he'd spent with her at the hospital after the explosion—they didn't need to act any more out of the usual than they already had. Gibbs would smell it like a bloodhound could suss out a fox on the run.
So he'd gone on to work as though everything was business as usual, and she took a cab from the hospital to the Navy Yard instead. Ziva walked out of the elevator and into the squad room a little after nine in the morning, the appointment having taken a little longer than she'd hoped. But it had gone well, Lieutenant Alexander had decided, when he saw how nicely she was healing. If she continued to apply vitamin E oil to the cut above her eye then it shouldn't scar too badly, if at all. She was lucky—in the spy game, the less identifying features the better.
"You're late," Tony noted smugly, and mostly for show. What he really meant was: that took longer than you thought it would…
"Doctor's appointment," she said as she stowed her gear and flopped down in her chair. Nothing new or urgent to report.
"Everything alright?" McGee asked her, concerned.
She smiled at him. "Everything is fine, McGee; it was merely a follow-up. But thank you for asking," she said pointedly, digging at Tony, but again, mostly for show.
"Yeah, get any good news, Zee-vah?" Tony asked her, pretending to be distracted by something on his computer. You feel like filling me in instead of leaving me hanging?
"As a matter of fact," she said, slowly removing the sling, and trying not to laugh when she saw Tony's head whip around at the sound of the Velcro releasing. "I have been cleared…"
"Heh?" he asked her, confused and flummoxed. Doctor said not for another few weeks. Do her ninja skills also include rapid healing?—or mind control?
She shrugged. "…to type," she finished lamely.
Tony burst out laughing, and he banged his fist on the desk a couple of times. He wasn't trying to be mean; she just had such a proud look on her face when she told them that she'd been cleared, that the juxtaposition of that pride with her new found freedom to type just sent him over the edge.
"Something funny, DiNozzo?" Gibbs questioned as he stalked into the bullpen.
"Ziva can type, boss," he squeaked out, trying very hard to not laugh. It wasn't working.
"She can still shoot, DiNozzo," Gibbs reminded him, as Ziva chuckled evilly, staring him down with a look that would have made him very nervous in public, and something else in private.
So either way it had its desired effect—it shut Tony right up.
"Now, do you think John Hughes writes on a computer, or does he use an old-fashioned typewriter, like you, Probie?" Tony asked, continuing to bug him as they rode up in the elevator, having just returned from a crime scene.
McGee sighed and silently begged the elevator to go faster—either that, or for Tony to suddenly go mute. "Well, I'm sure he uses a computer, Tony. Most writers do."
"Did you ever consider converting?" Tony asked just to be difficult.
McGee was beginning to get irritable. "I don't think that's the reason for my…"
Tony grinned and pounced on the younger Agent as they exited the elevator and trekked across the squad room. "Were you going to say…writer's block?" he asked as they each rounded the corner.
"No!" McGee said fervently.
"You were!" Tony accused.
"Were, what?" Ziva asked, looking between the two.
"About to say 'writer's block,'" Tony tattled.
"McGee has writer's block?" she inquired, curiously, coming up beside Tony to examine McGee in tandem.
McGee shook his head. "No, McGee does not," he told her sternly.
Ziva smirked. "Just do what you did last time…write about us," she told him stiffly, obviously still a tad annoyed with him about his portrayal of her as Officer Lisa.
McGee huffed and threw his arms in the air. "Okay, I've told you guys a million times—the book is not about you."
"No, of course not," Tony said sarcastically, shaking his head, and smirking at Ziva. "It's about Special Agent Tommy…"
"And Officer Lisa," Ziva said, glaring at him pointedly, staring him down until Gibbs's voice shocked them all back into well-ingrained habitual action.
"Lay it out, Ziva!" Gibbs announced as he rounded the corner and came up to the plasma expectantly.
"And L.J. Tibbs," Tony whispered to McGee as they gathered to listen to all the hard work Ziva had done while they'd been on scene.
Ziva brought up images and files on the plasma and began spewing everything she'd dug up while they were bagging and tagging at the scene. "Petty Officer Cove joined the Navy three years ago, immediately after High School. I spoke with his Commanding Officer and was told that though immature, he considered Cove a good kid," she said, quoting the CO. "However, the Petty Officer does have a record. He was arrested twice after enlisting. Both misdemeanors. Public intoxication in 2004 and a noise ordinance violation last July."
"That it?" Gibbs asked.
"His CO did tell me something else, but I did not understand its meaning. Perhaps Tony can decode the juvenile vernacular," she proposed, handing him her pad and notes.
Tony ignored the jibe and took the pad from his partner, looking down and scrutinizing the words, his tone both bored and dry. "He works to live, and lives to party," he read. He looked up, "What's so hard about that?" he asked, baffled.
She punched him in the shoulder. "The next part, DiNozzo," she growled, slapping the pad for emphasis.
Tony read it and looked abashed. "Oh, uh, well, apparently the guys in his Command call him Darren 'Diddy' Cove," he said with a grin and a laugh.
Gibbs looked to Ziva for a moment, and she shrugged, indicating that she too had no clue what that meant. "Why?" he asked Tony.
"Uh, it's a reference to Sean 'Diddy' Combs, boss," McGee told him, receiving still blank looks from both he and Ziva.
"The Puff Man," Tony announced. "P-Diddy. Rap impresario. Went out with J-Lo…" he clarified, but got nothing but glaring looks—looks that were the facial equivalent of move on or die. "Petty Officer Cove was on duty yesterday…" Tony said, launching into the rest of the notes Ziva had written down on the notepad as she went to answer her ringing phone.
"Officer David," she said by way of greeting.
"This is Officer Newcomb, Norfolk Police. We got a hit on your BOLO, found a blue Ford Ranger license LFV 9672 abandoned along Highway Five."
"Thank you," Ziva said quickly and hung up.
"I'm going to go check the BOLO Ziva put out, see if he's got a hit on the pickup," McGee said, rounding the corner of his desk.
"That is not necessary, McGee. Norfolk Police just found it abandoned along Highway Five," she told them, proud that she'd managed to accomplish what she had even though she was sidelined, but also a little sad that she wouldn't be going out with them.
And so the team, minus Ziva, geared up and took off to check out Petty Officer Cove's missing car, leaving Ziva behind to shuffle papers and dig dirt.
Well, at least I have my left hand back, she thought to herself with a shake of her head.
"I believe his only solace at this point is that we stopped his crazed fan before he could kill anyone else," she told him late that night over Moo Shu and Lo Mein on the couch in front of the TV.
"Doesn't mean Gibbs still isn't planning on reaming McCopyCat for almost getting Abby killed," Tony argued. "For cryin' out loud, if you're going to write a published work about real people, the very least you can do is put some effort into changing the names and the details…"
"To protect the guilty?" she asked him with a smirk.
"The innocent," he corrected. "You know—those of us who aren't McGee. I hope Abby gave it to him good…" he trailed off deep in thought as he pounded his fist into his other hand.
"Well, McGee feels bad enough," she told him, looking pointedly at his clenched fists.
"Only makes it worse that he admitted it," Tony told her petulantly.
"It was no secret he was writing about us, Tony," she exclaimed, wary of his mood and baffled as to why he was taking such issue with the situation.
"Oh, come on; it's not about us!" he yelled, standing up suddenly and pacing around the room. "I mean, the whole part about Lisa and her broken heart?" he pointed out to her, still pacing, and still worrying her. "A tragedy she felt and kept hidden from her coworkers for fear of—"
"—looking weak?" she finished for him, her voice sad.
He stopped his pacing and just looked at her. "Yeah," he whispered, hanging his head.
"So, you are worried about…Lisa?" she asked, going along with McGee's pre-constructed aliases.
"We never really talked about it…" he alluded cryptically. He shifted his weight and put his hands on his hips. "I mean, I told you why I…and what went…but we never…you never…"
She unfolded her legs from beneath her and put her carton of Lo Mein—chopsticks included—down on the coffee table. She stared at the floor for a moment and then shook her head. "What is the point of discussing it any further than we already have?" she asked him stiffly. In her opinion, they had already spoken about her feelings and emotions more than they ever really needed to, and she could not understand his fascination—near obsession, really—with talking about how she had felt while he was seeing Jeanne and how she felt after she found out about it.
Tony guffawed and shook his head, intent on having the very conversation she was intent on avoiding. "That wasn't a discussion, Ziva—not nearly!"
"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…"
"Why are you so determined to discuss this, Tony? What possible reason could you have for—"
"—Because I'm scared you're going to resent me!" he yelled. She looked at him in shock. "If you don't talk about it now; if you don't let out whatever it is that you want to let out, then I…" He paused. "You don't like showing emotion because you think it makes you weak—okay; I accept that. But you were mad when you found out and I think you still are. I'd rather you beat the crap out of me now than to have it fester within you until it's too late for us to fix." He spread his arms wide. "So let me have it."
Ziva silently fumed. How dare he presume to know what I think…what I feel. She was perfectly fine accepting things the way they were; she was happy with how the two of them were now. Sure, she had reservations; sure she had lingering…emotions about the way things had gone down; sure she wasn't one hundred percent sure about what went down between them over the past few months, but she was prepared to act okay with it.
That's how professionals did things. She stood up and ground her teeth together. "You get orders, Tony. You may not like them, but you have to follow them. That is why they are called orders."
He stalked forward. "I wasn't following orders, Ziva. I was asked, and I said yes. I volunteered for the assignment."
She took a step forward as well. "Key word being assignment, Tony," she hissed at him, more angry with the fact that he was forcing the issue than she was angry about the actual issue.
She turned around and made a move to return to her perch on the couch. He reached out and grabbed her right elbow, stopping her in her tracks. He came up right behind her; their combined anger at the other's stubbornness permeated the atmosphere and made their bodies practically hum. He brought his mouth down so it was directly next to her ear, practically guaranteeing that she'd blow her top when he was done. "I made it more though, didn't I?"
That's when she lost it. Tony had wanted her to lash out and now he'd gotten his wish—she was pissed. She used his grip on her as leverage and twisted around so his fingers were ripped from her arm. Once free she pushed him away from her and cursed at him in Hebrew. "Idiot! What you did was the height of stupidity, Tony—on multiple levels! You were not playing a game; you do not let your guard down; and you do not allow yourself to feel for them, Tony! She was bystander, yes, but she was still your assignment—your enemy—and you were an idiot to forget that for even a moment!"
She began to stalk back and forth in her living room, finally letting out what she really would have been perfectly fine leaving dormant for the rest of eternity. "And of all things, I do not know what Jenny was thinking in leaving you so open to such a misstep!" she said, more to herself than to Tony.
Tony did a double-take. He'd wanted her to start letting it out, but that was something he not only didn't understand fully, but it was something that sounded like something he should take offense to. "And what the hell does that mean?" he demanded, angry for real this time.
She whirled on him. "It means that as an operative engaging in a long-term, high-stakes, and extremely intricate undercover operation, you should not have been allowed to take on a persona so close to your own. Your name barely changed, your hobby and obsession became your profession, and in hiding it from the rest of us, it closed you off to the reality of the situation. All of that kept you too close to Jeanne, Tony, when you should have been using your real life as the anchor keeping you tethered to who you are and what you were really doing! And Jenny knows all of this, Tony. The Director should have known better than to allow you such a dangerous alias! She practically set you up to fall for—" And suddenly a horrible thought occurred to both of them as sudden and wholly unwelcome clarity set in.
She had set him up…
Tony let out a breath and sat down in the arm chair at the far end of the living room as though his strings had been cut. "Well that's one way to guarantee that your inexperienced undercover operative efficiently hooks the girl," he whispered sadly.
Ziva shook her head. "Jenny would not…she…"
"To get La Grenouille," he said, nodding his head in resignation. "Yeah, she would do that. And judging by what you just said," he told her, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm pretty sure she did."
He paced around for a while, both of them silent as they thought over all of the clues and evidence to support their current theory, and then the repercussions of said discovery. Tony sighed, scrubbed his face and sat back down on the couch. "It explains why the feud between Gibbs and the Director has gone on this long—why he's so—"
"—angry," she finished. "And likely feeling more than a little disappointed."
"Yeah, well, that last part's going around," he said quietly.
Ziva sat down on the couch, a bit more than stunned. Jenny had been her partner for four years, and though together they had pushed the limits on several occasions, and broken the rules a few more times than they'd ever willingly admit to, Ziva never thought that Jenny could be so cold and so manipulative—and so much like her father. But Ziva forced that last thought from her mind as quickly as it had popped in there. She sighed and reached her right hand out to grasp Tony's. "Yes," she said sadly, nodding in slow agreement with Tony's assessment. "It is."
OMFG! That season finale nearly killed me! I mean, we all pretty much knew that Ziva's and Gibbs's past with Ari was going to play in, but putting such a gigantic seed of doubt in all our heads that the defining moment of Ziva's NCIS History (and pretty much this entire fanfiction, quite frankly) has me absolutely enraged. If it turns out the Eli really did order her there, I'm going to LOSE MY MIND! Seriously, then everything is different! So, I repeat: OMFG.
And to top it all off, I'm pretty sure that Ziva getting captured and tortured is part of Mossad's plan to infiltrate the terror cell. So that's going to be WAY harsh. It's going to be a rough hiatus, that's for damn sure.
Sigh. Okay, I'm done now. I'll try to post next Tuesday if I can. Until then: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW. And tell me about your thoughts on the finale, huh? I'm sitting here trying to figure out whether to go ahead with my original plans regarding my Ari-Secret/Mossad/Ziva's Father/NCIS/Tiva storyline or whether I should re-vamp it to take into account the HORROR that was the season finale. I'd welcome your opinions greatly. Please, let me know. Thanks, all! Hope you enjoyed it. Until next week!