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, so I got the feeling that you all don't want me to try to work in the finale into my plans. ;) So, I won't. I may or may not pull Rivkin and bring him in to stir up some trouble later on, but truth be told, I had another idea for a Mossad-operative-comes-and-gives-Ziva-grief storyline that fits well with the insanity that will be my version of "Recoil," but that comes later—maybe six chapters or so.
Now, fair warning: in order to accommodate some of the new twists in the story, chapters 23-25 are a little bit of a stretch in places, but seeing as even the show can get a little silly at times, I'm hoping you'll all forgive me—particularly considering where the silly stories lead to.
I want to thank you all for being SO great with the reviews and for being so supportive! Your take on the finale was great to hear, and I hope that we'll be able to wipe the nastiness of it from our minds for the summer with this version of our beloved TIVA.
Oh! And before I forget, we have more flashbacks in this chapter—to when Tony was team-leader. Fun for everyone! Enjoy.
Tony and Ziva spent the remainder of the week trying to not let what they had uncovered affect them or their work, but it wasn't nearly easy. Ziva was having trouble grasping the fact that she had missed yet another manipulator in her life. She had trusted Jenny and had considered her a true friend. Finding out how she had manipulated Tony, first professionally—taking advantage of his desire/need to please and serve in the wake of Gibbs's departure (and Tony's subsequent crisis of confidence)—then personally—playing on the determination he had felt to see the case through to its finish to offset the non-committal instinct that would have had him running from Jeanne as soon as he realized he was on the verge of a serious relationship—had sent both Tony's and Ziva's heads spinning.
Tony, naturally, had reverted to his previous kicked-dog condition, doubting his abilities, and falling under the impression that he'd only been chosen because he was an easily manipulated patsy. And Ziva hadn't had the opportunity or ability to set him straight yet for two reasons. The first was that while Tony was not even remotely as easily manipulated or incapable as he thought he was, Ziva didn't know what Jenny had been thinking when she decided to use Tony as she had—and that meant that there was a chance that Jenny was deluded enough to believe the estimation of Tony that he now held himself in. The second, however, was that Ziva was having her own tribulations right at that moment. The old and very dangerous trust issues that stemmed from Svengali like her father and brother were bubbling up within her, threatening to overwhelm her if she couldn't get her head set back on straight. And as if that weren't enough, she now had to deal with the reality of the hurt she experienced as a result of the heartache—heartache that she'd never admit to—caused by Jenny's actions and exploitations.
In short, it has been a very bad week all around, and the only two things Ziva took comfort in were that she would be cleared for active duty again within the next week, and that when she went to sleep each night and awoke each morning…Tony was right there next to her.
Ziva had to get inside Jenny's head, she'd decided. There were too many things the Director had obfuscated or outright lied about. If she had been so willing to cross Tony the way she had—and annihilate her relationship with Gibbs in doing so—then the lengths to which Jenny would go to bring in La Grenouille might very well put them all at risk.
"Good evening, Cynthia," Ziva greeted the assistant with a smile. Ziva came to stand in front of Cynthia's desk and pointed to the door that said 'Director' on it. "Is she available?"
Cynthia smiled back at her. "I'll check," she said, picking up the phone and hitting a button. "Officer David is here to see you, Director." Cynthia mumbled a few non-committal phrases and nodded at Ziva she hung up the receiver. "You can go in."
Ziva nodded her thanks and opened the door to Jenny's office. "Knock, knock," she said lightheartedly, greeting her old friend, and doing her best to put the other woman at ease. Ziva closed the door and turned back around to face Jenny with a smile.
The Director took off her glasses and came around her desk with her arms open invitingly. She went over and kissed Ziva on both cheeks. "How're you feeling?" she asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Anxious," Ziva told her. "I will be much happier when I can do more than background checks and phone calls," she said honestly.
"No sling," she noticed, pointing to Ziva's left arm and motioning for the two of them to sit at the conference table.
Ziva sat down and immediately placed her left arm up on the table, her body turned to face the Director. "Yes," she said gratefully. "The Lieutenant in charge of my treatment relieved me of it yesterday, much to my delight."
Jenny smiled at her. "I take it, then, that you're rehabbing nicely?" she prompted.
Ziva nodded. "Two weeks and three days today," she said proudly. "By this time next week I should be back on active duty."
"You always were a fast healer," Jenny commented. "If memory serves, you took a round in your calf in Berlin and were back up and running—literally running—in…"
"—Six weeks," she said proudly. "Yes," she laughed. "I do not take kindly to being…"
"—Sidelined," Jenny finished knowingly. "I remember well." There was a momentary silence during which Ziva allowed a thoughtful look to cross her features, deliberately baiting Jenny—and it worked. "What's on your mind, Ziva?" she asked softly.
"I am…worried," she said hesitantly—threading the needle.
"Worried?" Jenny asked sincerely concerned.
"…About Tony," she revealed before launching into a quickly-paced and well-thought-out speech. "He is reacting badly to the fallout the Benoit revelation has caused between he and Gibbs. He feels, quite unrealistically, in my opinion, that Gibbs is looking at him differently—whatever that means," she threw in offhandedly.
"Gibbs's issue is with me," Jenny said forcefully, her voice no longer the gentle and caring one of her partner, but rather the authoritative voice of the Director of NCIS. "Not with Tony. Your concerns are as unfounded as his are," she told Ziva vehemently.
"He believes he failed you, Jenny—you and Gibbs each—and there seems to be nothing I can say to correct that."
"It's simply not true, Ziva," she said, standing up and pacing the floor of her office. "Yes, things did not work out in the end as I had originally envisioned them…" she stopped and stood with her hands on her hips. "But that is not on Tony's head," she told Ziva sternly.
"I take it you have other heads in mind…" Ziva led, hoping she'd take the bait.
Jenny shot her a stern look. Ziva cleared her throat, and inclined her head in apology. Jenny sighed and shoo k her head, seemingly baffled. "I don't know why Tony would be having such a reaction; I honestly don't." She threw out her arms. "He did exactly what was both expected and needed of him. I wouldn't have given him the assignment if I didn't know he could handle it. I saw how he was while he was running the team while Jethro was out doing…whatever it is he was doing."
"Perhaps he thinks you no longer have the same confidence in him now that you did then?" Ziva asked, putting up a hesitant front.
"It's a ridiculous notion, Ziva. He is a fully capable and extremely competent agent; he's just as good as Gibbs only with a slightly more pleasant bedside manner," she quipped, sitting down again and drumming her fingers on the table.
Ziva shook her head, trying to figure out how to get the information she needed. When trying to get information someone wouldn't usually give, it's best to fire them up first, so that if the door to a particular topic is closed on you, all you have to do is lead the other person in the direction of a completely other door—because if they're sufficiently thrown, they'll open it all by themselves. "Perhaps…when Gibbs returned…" she trailed off, hoping that Jenny would fill in the blanks for her.
"When Gibbs returned Tony was fine. He said he didn't have a problem working under Gibbs again, and in fact, I know that's what he really wanted to do—stay here; he wouldn't have turned down…" Jenny trailed off, and sat up straighter, which told Ziva that whatever she was about to say was something she wouldn't have normally said. He wouldn't have turned down…what?
"Director?" Ziva asked hesitantly.
Jenny shook her head, stood up, and crossed the room to return to her desk. Their conversation as old friends was over—her body language said as much. Ziva cleared her throat and quietly excused herself from the Director's office. But as she turned to leave, Jenny's voice stopped her. "Tony knows he has what it takes, Ziva—and he does."
Ziva nodded and left the office, still thinking about the Director's slip up. He wouldn't have turned down…what? Ziva descended the staircase slowly, using each step as another moment with which to turn the question over in her mind. What did he turn down? It had been a long few days spent wrapping up the loose ends of their last case and all four of them were running on fumes. She herself had been drooling on her desk once or twice, McGee had been nodding off while typing, and Tony had succumbed to drinking coffee to stay awake—so she knew they were all ready for a good night's sleep. When she reached her desk she plucked up her coat and slid her arms into it—still babying the left one a bit—and picked up her bag, swinging it on her shoulder. She turned to see Tony and McGee going through the same ritual as she was. McGee said and waved goodnight as he passed them on his way to the elevator, and Ziva waited for Tony to finish up.
He yawned loudly and she laughed at him. "Good to see that I can still amuse you even while practically unconscious," he told her, and she smiled at him. He hefted his bag up onto his shoulder and reached down to grab his empty coffee cup before tossing it into McGee's garbage can basketball-style. But as Ziva watched the large white coffee-stand cardboard soar through the air, it suddenly occurred to her.
"You know I only drink coffee—"
"—When you are bossing people around, or are incredibly tired," she finished.
"When Gibbs returned Tony was fine. He said he didn't have a problem working under Gibbs again, and in fact, I know that's what he really wanted to do—stay here; he wouldn't have turned down…"
"You know I only drink coffee—"
"—When you are bossing people around…"
…bossing people around…
"Hey," he said to her, noticing her far away look. "You ready to go?"
They were in the car headed back to Tony's apartment building. She hadn't said anything to him yet. In truth, she really didn't know how to talk to him about it. His turning down his own team meant a lot of things—some were good, some were painful, and some were…blurry. Ziva leaned her head against the window and watched the rain drops slide down the cold glass. He had been offered his own team—so Jenny obviously knew his abilities, and she knew what he was worth; that was good. He had turned down his own team—which meant that Tony might not have necessarily thought enough of himself to say yes; that was bad. He had turned down his own team and chosen to keep it a secret—that was the blurry part.
"You've been really quiet," he observed, sending her a sidelong glance. "Something wrong?"
Ziva sighed softly. "That has yet to be determined," she told him cryptically, not moving her head from its post watching raindrops fall.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked her, sounding a little worried. "Are you sick? In pain?"
She gave a little laugh and reached out to pat his knee comfortingly, glad to be able to use her left arm again. "No, I am not sick or in pain."
"Then what's going on?" he asked her seriously, sparing her a look that urged her to let him in.
"I am honestly not sure anymore," she said, her throat a little tight. "I went up to speak with the Director before we left," she began and saw him nod that he knew that already. "I wanted to attempt to find out anything…anything that…anything," she said, at a loss for words to accurately describe why she had manipulated the Director of NCIS.
He nodded quickly, showing her he understood and that she should go on; but she didn't. "And what did you find out?" he asked finally. She opened her mouth—to argue—the look on her face gave away that much. He could practically hear her objection in his head—what makes you think I found out anything, Tony, she would have said. Does she think I can't read her by now? he asked himself incredulously. "You wouldn't be acting so thrown if you hadn't found out anything, Ziva," he chastised, looking mildly amused by her reaction.
Ziva gave a short laugh at how obvious that one was. I must be more affected than I thought, she decided. She smiled at him and then sobered when she thought about how to best phrase her next question. "When Gibbs returned…" she began, unsure of what she might unleash by bringing this up. "She offered you your own team." It was a statement, not a question. And the way in which his hands began to nervously grip the steering wheel was his answer. "Why did you turn it down?" she asked, as politely and with as little inflection in her voice as possible.
"Does it matter?" he grit out between clenched teeth as he turned into his building's parking lot.
Ziva waited until he'd parked the car and then she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to fully face him. She grabbed his face and turned it towards her so he could see how serious she was. "You know it does," she told him.
"I wasn't ready," he said simply, and got out of the car, taking long, quick strides through the rain to his front door.
Ziva scrambled out of the car herself and jogged a few steps to get in front of him, spinning around once she had. She put her hand out on his chest to stop him, completely ignoring the rain pouring down on them. He glared at her. "Why did you say 'no'?" she asked him again, raising her voice so she could be heard over the rain.
"You asked that already," he growled at her, attempting to step around her to open the door to the apartment building's vestibule. He yanked open the door with much more force than was necessary, taking out his aggression on the building. Ziva slammed her hand down on the door, effectively blocking Tony's escape route and keeping the two of them outside arguing in the rain like a couple of deranged lunatics.. "You asked; I answered!" he yelled at her, the rain dripping off his face as he spat the words at her.
She shook her head and started to scream at him. "You were ready, Tony! You are still ready. You ran the team for four months without incident." She shook her head, baffled. "It was your team! Yours! You ran it! How can you say that you were not ready when you were?"
Tony growled at her and shot her an aggravated look. Why can't you just leave it alone, Ziva? She's such a pain in the ass! And then he thought back to that day in the hospital when he decided that though she was possibly the biggest pain in the ass in the world—she was a pain that he'd willingly subject himself to anytime. He groaned again and spread his arms out wide. "Rota!" he screamed. "Rota."
Ziva blinked and shook her head. She didn't know what that meant. "The woman on TV Land at night?" she asked baffled.
Oh, now she chooses to pay attention to pop-culture! he complained in his head. "Spain," he told her. "Rota, Spain, Ziva." She closed her mouth and ran her hands through her hair. The two of them were completely drenched—soaked down to the bone—but they weren't going anywhere yet. Ziva was less confused than before, but she was still waiting for him to explain himself.
He gave a very long sigh that seemed to transform into a semi-hysterical laugh. He took a sudden step forward and grabbed her face, bringing it towards him and kissing her with everything he had in him. She responded in kind, her hands finding their usual place behind his head as she stepped into his body. They kissed like that until they each had no breath left and were forced to part. Tony placed his forehead against Ziva's and just held her right where they were, in front of his apartment building, standing in the rain. Tony took a moment to look into Ziva's eyes and saw her unyielding trust and understanding. So he nodded and resigned himself to the fact that like it or not—and he did not—they were going to have this conversation. "As much I doubt myself at times, Ziva," he told her, still cupping her face. "I know I can lead a team—I just couldn't bring myself to leave this one."
Ziva threw him a towel as he stepped out of the shower and mumbled something in Hebrew under her breath. He caught the towel against his chest and wrapped it around his hips, noticing that she was already dressed for the night in a pair of his sweats and an oversized OSU sweatshirt. Her hair fell over her shoulders and around her face in attractive tendrils, still wet from her own shower. He laughed to himself and motioned to her with his hand. "Speak, Ziva. Preferably in English," he added pointedly, making his way around Ziva and into his bedroom.
"You are doing it again, Tony," she chastised, leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.
He pulled clothes out of his dresser and slammed his drawers closed with an angry hand. "And what exactly would that be, Zee-vah?" he asked, his earlier revelations—forced at Ziva's hand (at least in his mind)—making him cranky and snarky. He was covering for his giving away so much.
To her credit, Ziva knew this; but unfortunately for Tony, that only meant that she was going to keep on after it with renewed energy and determination. Personally, she was tired of dealing with her own issues, her own demons, and her own weaknesses; helping Tony with his reservations and doubts was either a good deed on her part or her way of avoiding her own crap. Either way, Ziva was determined. "Second-guessing your decisions; feeling sorry for yourself; and not realizing that the faith everyone puts in you is neither random nor misplaced."
Tony pulled on his boxers and sweatpants, scrubbed his wet hair with the towel for a few seconds, and then threw the towel into the corner of his bedroom where it landed on top of his hamper with a wet thwack. "I know you think you're being helpful, Ziva; but I really don't need another pep-talk. I know the score and I know my place on the team."
"Oh really?" she asked, coming closer to him, swaggering as she did so. "And what place would that be?"
He lifted his chin defiantly, his tone clipped. "Second in command. The fall-back, the replacement—and not the comedic hero Keanu Reeves type—the fall-guy. That's me."
"I see we have come full circle," she noted dryly. "Gibbs would never have left you in charge of the team if he did not know you could do it, Tony."
"Gibbs quit, Ziva!" he yelled. "The man couldn't be bothered to stick around to do his job, what makes you think he cared about who he passed it on to?"
"Because he gave it to you!" she screamed. "He could have walked out; left, without any pretense whatsoever. No instructions, no goodbyes—nothing. But he didn't." She took a breath and came to stand in front of him so she could make sure he understood what she was saying. "He said goodbye to his friends, and then he handed them over to you for safekeeping because he trusts you to be able to do that, Tony." Her words were firm, and she did not waiver in her conviction, but Tony remained silent and unmoved.
"Do you remember what happened in that first week after Gibbs left?" she asked him finally. His eyes ticked up to meet hers, a silent answer to her question.
Abby broke first. As it turned out, Abby hadn't slept at all the night before. She had lain awake in 'bed' all night worrying about how things would be the next morning. She held out hope all night that when she got to the Navy Yard in the morning Gibbs would be there, having changed his mind, or to tell her he was just kidding. But that didn't happen.
When Abby came in that morning she found everything changed. Tony had moved his things over to Gibbs's desk and Gibbs's displaced possessions were packed away in a box that was overflowing with the little bits of the life and career of the missing Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
"What did you do?" she shrieked at Tony, grabbing up the carton containing the life Gibbs had left behind. "Gibbs will kill you for touching his things, Tony!"
"Well I had to touch them to pack them, Abby," he argued logically, not seeing the train derailment up the track.
"Tony, I love you," she told him. "I don't want to see you in tiny-Tony-pieces when Gibbs comes back and sees what you've done," she said seriously.
"Abby—" Tony began gently.
"NO!" she yelled, holding up her hand to stop him. "You may not have any faith left in Gibbs, Tony, but I do!" She took a deep, ragged breath. "And he is coming back," she said adamantly.
Tony just gave her a sad look.
"Abby," Ziva began gently, still behind her desk.
Abby just spun and plunked down the carton onto Ziva's desk angrily. "He's coming back, Ziva! I don't care what your super-spy senses tell you; he wouldn't just quit! Not Gibbs; not like that."
Ziva stood and picked up the box Abby had dropped in front of her. Ziva maintained eye contact with Abby as she handed the box back to the Goth pointedly. "He did quit, Abby; just like that."
McGee was second. It had taken two full days of Tony's "Gibbs-act" for McGee to break. He'd flipped out on Tony in the middle of the bullpen.
"You can't keep playing Gibbs forever, Tony! The act only works short-term. You're going to have to get your own schtick, DiNozzo," he'd told him, stalking off to the elevator, leaving Tony scowling in the proverbial dust.
Ducky had flipped out next, breaking out into every story he had with undertones of desertion. He was disgusted with Gibbs's decision to quit, and he made sure that his tone and demeanor clued everyone in to that fact.
Ziva, though; Ziva was used to people coming and going—to losing friends and family. It was the frustration she felt in the aftermath of Gibbs's departure that began to way on Ziva. First it was the confrontation with Abby. Then it was listening to McGee attempt to take Tony down a notch. Ducky's incessant droning on was like a sledgehammer in the back of her mind, reminding her at every turn that things were far from the way they should be. And then the Director assigned Agent Lee to the team. Lee was afraid of Ziva—with good reason, everybody who valued their lives should always be aware of the importance of not angering the assassin—but Lee also let her opinions about Ziva's profession and her background cloud her professionalism; something that Ziva picked up on very easily. And a tense Ziva did not make for a well-oiled machine. The team wasn't a team anymore because they'd all been reduced to petulant, squabbling children with Tony the insecure ringleader. It made for a volatile situation. And it was left to Tony to disarm it.
So he'd gathered everyone in together in autopsy and had them all line up firing-squad style. He kept them all silent as he paced back and forth from one end of the line to the other. "This is not a team," he said. "This is not a team until we once again work in harmony. We are each a piece of the puzzle. Separately, we can't accomplish anything!" He stared them all down, letting that sink in. "But together…together we solve mysteries; together, we find missing people; together, we catch the lowlifes on this earth that seek to undo all the good we stand for. It's trite, and overused, but let it never be said that it isn't true—we are stronger together than apart."
He stood in front of Abby. "There's no one better than you, Abs. You love your job; you love what you do, and you hate injustice. You're an NCIS Forensic Specialist. And you kick ass at it," he said after a beat, earning himself a small Abby Schuito-smile.
"Damn straight," she said softly, the determination in her voice shining through.
Tony winked at her as he moved down the line to stand in front of McGee. "You're right, Tim; I'm can't play Gibbs forever. And I don't have to. I don't need to play at being Gibbs to remind you of your place, Special Agent McGee." His voice was strong and his tone was firm. "I am your team-leader," he told McGee quite seriously. "And you are my Senior Field Agent," he reminded him in the same voice, but glad to see that it had the desired effect. Tony saw the breakthrough in McGee's eyes as he finally realized what Tony was telling him.
McGee nodded assertively. "Yes, I am…boss."
Tony patted him on the shoulder as he made his way down the line to stand before Ducky. "I'm not Gibbs," he said again. "He's not here, Ducky. No one's happy about it, but it's something we all have to deal with. The team needs you back, Ducky," he told him seriously, referring to the old Ducky who did not make everything about Gibbs's desertion. Ducky nodded and smiled proudly at Tony.
Then he came to stand in front of Ziva and Lee. "PROBIE!" he shouted, laughing as he saw McGee jump before remembering his place.
Lee stepped forth and stood at attention. "Yes, sir?" she asked, trepidation in her voice.
"Agent Lee, there is only one thing you need to know about Officer David," he told her seriously, leaning down for dramatic effect. "Don't make her angry," he deadpanned.
Lee looked nervously to Ziva before stammering an awkward, "Understood, Sir," and returned to her place in line.
"Officer David," he said gently, not needing to infuriate Ziva unnecessarily. Ziva looked up to meet his eyes, amusement evident in her own orbs. "Best not to kill the new recruits before they can prove themselves," he told her. She nodded.
And that was that. He'd smoothed out the bumps and begun the healing process…
"You knew what needed to be said to each of us," she reminded him. "You kept us from falling to awkward pieces in the face of abnormality. You led the team, Tony," she told him unwaveringly. "Gibbs knows what you had to work through to get the team to trust your leadership like we trusted his. He knew you were ready when he left; and he saw that he was right when he returned. He trusts you, Tony. I trust you," she said fiercely, holding her hand to her chest to show him the many ways in which she trusted him. "McGee, despite your best efforts to alienate him," she said, throwing him a meaningful look with her eyes, "trusts you." She through out her arms in a frustrated huff, "You know Abby and Ducky trust you, Tony. We all do," she said loudly. "Even Jenny," she told him softly but firmly.
Tony guffawed and broke eye contact, turning around to wrench open another drawer to then angrily slam shut. He pulled a t-shirt over his head and thrust his arms threw it, now aggravated.
When he was done, Ziva grabbed his arm and made him look at her. "What she did was reprehensible, Tony. What she did was infuriating as your Director, and heartbreaking as your friend." He made a move to turn away from her and walk out, but she blocked his path, speaking faster now. "She set you up, Tony; she did. You and I know that now, but—" He tried to get by her again, but again, she blocked his path, willing to take his angry looks in order to say what she needed to say. "—But, I do not think she set you up because you were an easy target, Tony—I think she did it because she knew when the time came, you would be able to handle it…to survive it."
He stopped trying to leave and just looked at her. His body was tense and his breathing was quick—he was reacting to her assertion and she just watched him for a moment. She put her hands on his shoulders before moving them slowly up towards his neck, and then his face. "It was a horrible thing to do to anyone, Tony. I do not condone it. I know how it feels to be manipulated like that." He looked at her finally…really looked at her, making real contact with her eyes, and he softened a little. Probably her father, he thought to himself, rage surging up in him at the idea of Ziva feeling as violated as he felt when he thought about the way in which Jenny had set him up.
"And?" he asked gently, prompting her to finish her thought.
"We are stronger than them," she told him adamantly, holding his face between her hands and locking her eyes to his. "Because we survive it."
He was processing all of this new information. Nothing like being the chum who didn't know he was being used. How did I not see something so blatant? Of course it all makes sense now—why would anyone want to make themselves so vulnerable? Of course there should have been a deeper cover—a better cover. And I didn't know enough to know the difference! What kind of agent does that make me? He didn't say anything for a few moments and Ziva let the silence hang between them, knowing that he'd speak again when he was ready. "I should've known better," he said to her. "You were right—there should have been a deeper cover."
"Tony—" she began.
He wrenched away from her and began to pace his floor. "Which Gibbs knows because he knew better than I did. So on top of being the Director's puppet Gibbs thinks that I'm an idiot for allowing such a stupid, idiotic, PROBIE mistake!" he screamed, yelling at himself more so than Ziva.
"Tony!" she screamed, stopping him in his tracks. "You were not trained for deep-cover assignments—"
He spun on her, misunderstanding her point. "Thank you, Ziva; that helped so much!"
She slapped him to get him to pay attention. "Would you stop feeling sorry yourself for one minute?!" she screamed. "I know you would very much like to get back to flicking out, but right now you are going to stop and listen to what I have to say!"
He gnashed his teeth together silently, a sour look on his face. "It's flipping out," he ground out petulantly.
She took a deep breath to keep herself from beating the crap out of him. She relaxed her hands at her sides, melting away the tight fists she had been previously trying to control. "You were not trained for deep-cover assignments," she began again, speaking slowly. He huffed and made a move to turn away from her, but he wasn't fast enough. Her hands shot out and held him in place, her eyes nailing him in place. "—And that is a good thing, Tony!" She breathed out hard. "I have been masquerading as other people for over a decade, Tony, and there is no good that could have come from your having the same training that allows me to change personas as though I were skipping tracks on a CD." He looked at her curiously. "Yes, you are in pain; you suffered in many ways from your—exposure." She shook her head at him, here throat tightening and emotions coming to the surface. "But the alternative would have been to harden you to—life."
Tony noticed the change in her immediately, and his hardened exterior softened, now concerned with Ziva. She never showed so much emotion if she could avoid it, so obviously, the tears that were gathering in her eyes meant that if nothing else, he owed it to her to listen to what she was telling him—what she was revealing to him.
"Gibbs. Jenny. Me. We all…experience life differently. We live our lives, yes, but we analyze every second of it, looking for the lie someone is telling us and watching out for the other person doing the same." She took a ragged breath and cursed herself for not being able to explain this to him while maintaining her composure. And then she realized that was the key to getting him to understand her. "Gibbs will not apologize because it is a sign of weakness. He never shares anything personal if he can avoid it, because that gives someone a hold over him—gives them power over him. And he lives like that—closed off and alone.
"Jenny used you to get what she wanted." She watched him flinch slightly. "And she was able to do that because of the way she looks at life, looks at her goals, and the way she experiences other people's reactions. And I…" she hesitated. "I should be able to tell you all of this without my head telling me that doing so will make you see me as weaker than I was ten minutes ago."
Tony nodded quickly and stayed silent. He saw her clench her teeth together and scrunch up her face as if she were holding in tears that she refused to shed. Probably true, he thought, wishing she didn't feel that way. And that's what she's trying to tell you, DiNozzo, his inner voice shouted to him. You don't want her to feel as though she has to hide her emotions from you, and the reason she does that is because of the training that you believe would have saved you the embarrassment and frustration you feel right now—because of Jenny and Jeanne and Gibbs.
She kept her eyes closed and her hands closed tightly over his arms, squeezing out her frustration on his biceps. She took in a heaving breath. "I should be able to say so many things to you…but I cannot." Like telling you that I love you as well, she thought sadly. He'd said it first, but she had yet to say it. It wasn't something he said a lot; in fact, she was pretty sure he'd never said it a second time after that day in the hospital, but that was fine with her because it would have just reminded her of her inabilities and downfalls.
"Not yet," he whispered to her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, his eyes softened and understanding once again. Tony had an inkling as to what she was referring to. He hadn't said it again because he wasn't sure that it was the best of ideas—gushy emotions and Ziva don't mix—and he didn't want to spook the clam shell into shutting just yet. But just because he knew of her difficulty with emotion didn't mean that he thought any less of her. She was his best friend, his partner, his girlfriend, and someone for whom he had tremendous respect. He shook his head. "I don't think you're weak, Ziva," he told her. "Far from it." She swallowed hard and stayed silent. "I hate that you feel weak when you open up to me," he told her seriously.
"I hate that the people close to you caused you so much pain and grief." She opened her mouth to say something but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. He brought his head closer, his voice very serious. "And I understand what you're trying to tell me," he admitted finally. "And telling me what you did, the way you did," he said pointedly, referring to her highly-charged emotional state, "…is not weakness." She bowed her head down a little, no longer meeting his eyes. She just couldn't look at him right at that moment—she was too likely to let her tears fall. But his voice was very firm and his eyes were very kind…and loving. "You fought your instinct because you wanted to help me understand what I stubbornly couldn't." He tipped her head up to meet his once again, and his heart nearly broke at how scared her eyes looked. "That's not weakness, Ziva—that's strength."
"I still turned down the job offer," he said begrudgingly later on that night as they lay in bed.
Ziva expected it to come up again. "It is not a weakness to have chosen that way," she told him assuredly. "I believe that it was the more courageous choice."
"I don't see how you can say that when you were ordered to leave everything you knew to come and live here in DC—and you did it." He sighed heavily, comparing himself to Ziva and seeing that perhaps his dedication wasn't quite what he thought it was. "I couldn't even leave when tempted with career advancement," he mumbled.
Ziva turned to face him, lying on her side with her head propped up on her hand. "That is not what happened," she said softly. He looked down at her curiously and she sighed. "I requested the assignment, Tony. I ran from Israel, ran from my problems," she said thoughtfully. "But you," she said, looking at him sincerely. "You knew what you wanted and you knew what felt right to you. You didn't let anyone else's opinions about what they believed you should do come in between you and what you knew to be right." Ziva paused, a smile playing on her lips as she realized how much like their mentor they had become. "You followed your gut," she told him, humor in her voice. "Gibbs would be proud."
"That's basically what Jenny said."
"Then she was right about at least one thing," Ziva said softly before placing a feather light kiss to his lips and lying her head back down on her pillow.
Let me know what you think so I'm not left wondering whether I've ruined my streak, huh? Lol.