- May: Epilogue -
Due to the late hour, the atrium of the hotel was empty save for the lone employee behind the registration desk and Tony, who sat at the piano positioned beside the stone fireplace in the lounge area. He'd learned that every piano had its own distinct sound, and this one was slightly sharp for his liking, but it would have to do. There wasn't much time left to practice.
His fingers had flown through the opening again and were heading for the intricate middle section, when familiar hands glided over the slopes of his shoulders and took up residence in the valley of his chest. The comforting smell of honey and almonds tickled his nose; soft tendrils of her hair brushed across his neck, alighting chills down his spine.
He hadn't heard her approach, but his best friend was always a welcome surprise. Even now, when she was the last person he wanted hearing the rehearsal of that particular piece. His fingers lifted from the keys and the music died off.
"I do not recognize that piece," Ziva remarked, leaning the run of her body along his back and as a result, letting him know how little she was wearing under her silky robe.
"Well, I'd hope not." Giving no further explanation, Tony blindly grabbed one of her hands, the modest setting of her ring pressing into the fleshy part of his palm. "Come play with me."
With a kiss behind his ear, she murmured huskily, "I would rather you play with me."
Who could resist a line like that?
Tony reached around and seized her waist, earning a throaty chuckle from her as he guided her down into his lap. As her arms linked around his neck, cinching herself ever closer to him, he looked over her shoulder, caught the eye of the hotel employee, and nodded. The smart man took the hint and backed away sheepishly, making himself scarce.
"You are not getting the, um, chilly feet?"
"Close," he praised with a laugh, his joined hands settling on her hip. "No, I'm not getting cold feet. Are you?"
There was plenty they could regret, after all.
When the sun rose, it would be a year to the day that they resigned from NCIS, a choice that forever altered their futures when they both followed through on their plan not to seek reinstatement. Though they had lost their jobs for good, they didn't lose their family, just as Tony had predicted, and each member had learned to respect their decision in their own way. Following an exoneration process, Gibbs and McGee were reinstated to the team in the fall, so the couple was still able to see everyone whenever they were in D.C.
Ziva often referred to their years at NCIS as one movement in the symphony of their lives: it nurtured their skills and talents, both personal and professional; it provided a place for them to call home when they needed it most; and it was the first they shared, for which they would always be grateful. The previous summer, though, had acted as a bridge for them into this next movement, and it centered entirely on them.
Visiting Senior in New York City had kindled in them a love affair with the bustling metropolis that outlasted the elder DiNozzo's interest in the rich widow. When they weren't working freelance jobs or settling into their new apartment in the city, they were traveling. Frequent, spontaneous excursions took them to parts of the world Tony had only seen in movies. Anywhere was an adventure with his partner, who blossomed in the swirl of exotic languages and cultures of the foreign countries, and he was the lone recipient, privy to every version there was of Ziva David.
It wasn't long before he knew he wanted them all, permanently.
Framed by the red and orange flames of the fireplace, his fiancée kissed him long and hard, serving as her reply. So much had changed, but she was still a woman of few words when it came to her feelings. Lucky for him, he was fluent in this form of communication as well, and he didn't hear a single regret in the flick of her tongue against his own.
"If not that," she persisted after they peeled apart, "then why, may I ask, are you down here on the eve of the ceremony?"
They were eloping in the morning. It was a formality at this point. They already belonged to each other.
"What can I say? You've created a monster."
Her eyes slanted, making it clear she was unconvinced by his humor and brilliant smile.
Tony sighed. "It's something I've been working on. I was going to surprise you with it tomorrow."
Considering that the piano brought them together, there was nothing he could think of that was more fitting to celebrate their marriage than their own original melody. He'd actually become a pretty good pianist through all of this—go figure. Amidst travel and work over the past few months, he'd nevertheless reached the point where Ziva could no longer teach him anything.
The brunette was still for a moment, simply gazing at him, touched. "You have never failed to surprise me, Tony," she said finally, her voice low and thick, "in every way imaginable. It is one thing I love you about you."
He beamed at the familiar phrase, the one he first used months earlier when persuading her to choose them, and that they'd both employed ever since to share what they appreciated most about each other.
"I'll have to remember that one," he chuckled, his wink acting as punctuation. "And I love you, too." About that, he wasn't joking. Never would.
"I know you do," Ziva assured him, caressing his cheek with the backs of her fingers, cool nails on scruffy stubble. "Would you consider playing it for me now, my love?"
"The song? It's still kinda rough…"
Despite the forewarning, Tony shifted her within his arms, unwilling to relinquish her even to better facilitate reaching the keyboard. His hands moved deftly, generating the short albeit poignant tune that hopefully evoked their journey of heartache and friendship and growth. He wanted her to think of how far they'd come, and all that they still had to look forward to, every time he played it for her.
Perched on his knee, Ziva was motionless, listening intently. Then, in an action that tore him apart, she placed one of her hands on top of his as he continued to play, her fingers rising and falling with the waves of the piece he wrote for her, riding the dips of the notes, cresting on the suspended tension in the breaths between chords.
He wasn't sure when it happened—the switch of her focus from the piano onto him—but suddenly her lips found his mouth, imparting the sweetest of reviews with each tender kiss. And though his hands deserted the keys to hold her tight and close, the melody sustained, alive in the harmony of their devotion to each other and to this new life they were composing together.
The end
Oh my goodness, it's done! Ugh, don't look at me—I'm all verklempt. *sniffles* And to think, I started writing this because, after the news of Cote leaving, I got a flash in my mind of Tony playing the piano in his darkened apartment, sad because Ziva had left him, and I thought, "That can't be how it ends." Who knew it would take 11,600+ words to prove myself right?
Well, I know I've said it a lot, but I do sincerely hope you all enjoyed this story. Thank you for coming along for the ride. Hugs all around! - Tatiana