Pivotal Moments
A/N So, I looked at the traffic for this piece and realized that somehow two most recent chapters were read by a lot more people than the early ones. Which is fine, if you're more interested in the episodes those chapters are about, but chapters 2 and 4 have some pretty important details I invented about Michael and Ziva's interactions in Morocco and then when she visited him in Tel Aviv, so I'd suggest you check those out so the upcoming chapters make sense. A general synopsis so far, just to keep everyone on the same page:
Chapter 1—post-Hiatus, Rebekah and Ziva in Tel Aviv
Chapter 2—Last Man Standing, Ziva and Michael in Morocco
Chapter 3—Agent Afloat, Ziva and Tony in Colombia
Chapter 4—Nine Lives, Ziva and Michael in Israel
Chapters 5-6—Cloak/Dagger, Ziva in DC
Chapter 7—Roadkill, Ziva in DC
And now on to Chapter 8, around Silent Night, set in DC...
______________________________________________________________________
December 2008
Ziva checked the place settings on the table one more time, surprised to find she was nervous. Like a teen-aged girl on a date, she mused.
The knock at the door startled her. She checked the peephole and smiled.
She opened the door wide to allow Michael inside. He set down his luggage, then turned to her with open arms. Ziva smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the comfort of his embrace.
"Shalom," Michael said softly, pulling back far enough to kiss her on both cheeks, then once, longer, on the lips.
"Shalom." She turned with an arm outstretched. "Welcome."
Michael took in the apartment. "You have a nice place," he said warmly.
"Thank you," she answered softly. Then, stepping toward the kitchen, she smiled with pride. "Sit down, I made latkes."
Michael's face lit up with pleasure. "I'd almost forgotten it was Hanukah, I've been in Africa so long."
"Well, not until tomorrow night, really, but you'll be gone by then and it's close enough. And anyway, I love to make them."
He sat down at her table, watching her bustle to pull the latkes and brisket from where they'd been warming in the oven. In just minutes she had their feast spread out: meat, latkes, applesauce, salad, sauteed vegetables.
"This is incredible," Michael said, clearly impressed.
Ziva glowed. "I have not had anyone to cook a Hanukah meal for in a long time. I was excited to do it."
"Well, I'm excited to eat it," he answered honestly, and they settled in to eat.
An hour later, their dinner and a flourless chocolate cake consumed, ridiculous stories shared of favorite Hanukah gifts and menorah accidents, Ziva and Michael collapsed on her couch. Ziva leaned against him and Michael wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her against him as they lay in a sleepy, sated stupor.
Ziva stroked Michael's fingers where they rested against her skin. "So, you are headed to California from here?" she asked softly.
He sighed. "Yes. There are some people there who are involved with the men I have been pursuing in Africa. I have directions to begin a long undercover operation, ingratiating myself with this cell."
Ziva nodded. The operation was standard for this sort of situation.
"Also," Michael said nervously, "your father told me to be sure to stop and see you."
She twisted to look at him.
"He still wonders if your loyalties are unfaltering." He watched her carefully, saw the way her lips pursed in annoyance. "Is there anything I should tell him?"
Ziva shrugged and leaned back against him again, where he couldn't see her face. "If he wants to doubt me, he will do so regardless of what you say."
"I could give him some nonsense, to make him believe I'm getting close to you," Michael offered.
She sighed, then laughed. "Tell him I am loyal to Mossad but perhaps too flirty with the NCIS agents, then—it's harmless, and after what Bashan at the embassy told him a few years ago, he's sure to believe it."
"Alright," Michael answered quietly. He could still feel the tension in her body. "Is something wrong?"
After a moment of silence, Ziva turned in his arms. "Is that why you came here? Because he would know if you didn't?"
His eyes answered for him, full of affection. "Of course not." He slid one of his hands into her hair and pulled her close for a kiss. Finally the stiffness left her body, replaced by another kind of tension. Ziva pressed close to him, insecurity forgotten.
***
The next morning was Sunday, and Ziva woke late to find that she had forgotten to set the alarm in their rush to her bed. Michael had already left for his flight to the airport, but a wrapped package was sitting beside the menorah on her kitchen table. Inside she found an Egyptian scarf, beautifully colored and incredibly soft. She wrapped it around her shoulders in place of his arms as she set about her day. Ziva couldn't help wondering what it would be like to have a real relationship with Michael, or with anyone, where she could know that she'd have someone to celebrate holidays with, to fall asleep beside, to surprise her with presents that suited her tastes so well. Weeks ago, she'd discussed with Tony how she wanted to have a family some day, and it surprised her that Michael brought the desire so quickly to the forefront of her mind.
***
She was still thinking of settled life a few days later, sitting with Tony, staking out the Vietnam War Memorial. Always eager to break the silence of a stakeout, Ziva posed the question to Tony. "Do you ever regret not having a wife and kids—especially this time of year? Hanukah's all about family...is it not the same with Christmas?" she asked.
Tony avoided the question as thoroughly as he could, leaping out of the car to chase after a woman who was clearly not their target. Ziva watched him, amused. She expected Tony would be a good family man, indulgent and gentle with his children, and with his wife...well, that was a harder picture to imagine, but she thought he'd take to it.
After five minutes of hilariously trying to stalk an overweight woman in sweats, Tony returned to the car. Ziva didn't return to the same topic, but was surprised when Tony himself brought it up.
"Sure, Christmas is about family," Tony said as he slid into his seat. "But in the DiNozzo family, there are more traditions than just being together. When my mom was alive, the tradition was watching It's a Wonderful Life complete with homemade snacks--"
"Of course!" Ziva cut him off with a laugh. "Of course, a movie."
Tony grinned. "Well, sure." He sobered. "But after she died, we did whatever Dad's wives wanted to do for Christmas. Some of them liked the Church thing, some were all about presents and tinsel and trees, or caroling. I once had to be Joseph in a Christmas pageant. My step-sister was Mary, it was kind of creepy."
Ziva laughed again. "You are not going to be with your family for Christmas this year?"
"Not at this rate," Tony answered sourly.
"Hey," she touched his arm to make him look over at her. "I have never seen It's a Wonderful Life."
Tony smiled. "Well, the way we'd do it, Dad would rent out the local independent theater after the Jews left on Christmas Day," he flinched as she smacked him in the arm, "and he and Mom and I would get the whole thing to ourselves. There's nothing like seeing it on the big screen."
"Well, maybe the director would let us borrow MTAC," Ziva suggested.
Tony's face lit up. "Now you're thinking like a DiNozzo!" he teased.
Ziva glared at him.
"No, I'm serious! I'm calling her right now." Tony grabbed for his cellphone and flipped it open to place the call. Ziva smiled fondly at his delight.
***
Around midnight that night, they all finally headed out of the Navy Yard, stuffed with popcorn, their toddies worn off enough for everyone to drive home, everyone's cheeks streaked with Abby's Christmas kisses.
Tony caught up to Ziva in the parking lot, calling out her name as she headed for her car. "Ziva!"
She turned toward him. A flake of snow landed on her cheek and she jumped, then tilted her head up to see more descending.
Tony reach her just as another settled on her nose and she twitched. He smiled. "I guess snow isn't an Israeli Hanukah tradition, huh?"
Ziva smiled, still looking up at it. "No."
Tony touched her shoulder, getting her attention. "Ziva."
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For suggesting this. It made Christmas a family event after all." He looked embarrassed by the words, but happy.
"I am glad," Ziva said softly.
"Anyway, I got you this," Tony said quickly, shoving a wrapped package into her hands.
Ziva raised her eyebrows in surprise. That evening, the team had exchanged gifts, and Tony had given everyone a copy of It's a Wonderful Life already—she, in turn, had given him both the book and DVD of Exodus, demanding that he read it first.
Before she could comment on this second, surprise gift, Tony walked quickly toward his car, taking comically large steps to avoid getting the two-inch deep snow on his shoes. Ziva shook her head at him, and walked to her own car.
Sitting inside it, Ziva watched his headlights leaving the lot before she tore off the wrapping paper. When she saw what was inside, she grinned widely. Through three windows of the long, rectangular frame, she, Tony and McGee could be seen jumping wildly into the air, wailing on their invisible guitars. Ziva laughed out loud. The family resemblance was uncanny.