Long time, no talk.
Sorry about that rather spontaneous hiatus. Unfortunately for you all, I both work full time and go to school. Consequently, I have had little time to write. But I also became sidetracked by another idea I had that I wanted to write out while it was fresh in my mind :o)
To make up for the delay, I made this one longer than usual. It came out a little more angsty and what I fear more dramatized than I intended, but hopefully it reads well for you.
x
In response to some of your comments in the last chapter; As far as using "David" more than "Ziva", I've just noticed that whenever Gibbs and Ziva have their more serious and emotionally heavy moments, they become more formal. Sorry if it didn't read right for you!
Also: I personally just don't like reading the name "Ziver" in fanfic, mainly because I feel like the nickname is an infliction Harmon has on her name. I absolutely recognize him using the nickname, but I just hear it in my head in parts of fanfic when I read it, if that makes sense?
& Finally: Yes, I'm aware he does have the rules written down; but he's always maintained to his team that they aren't :p so that's why I wrote it that way.
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Thank you for your constructive comments, and for all of you who are enjoying this story. Enjoy the latest installment :o)
Disclaimer(s): 1. I'm sad that I don't own any part of NCIS. 2. I loved the "Secrets" Episode incredibly; it was very old school NCIS.
3. I'm mad at myself for enrolling in two language classes this semester.
Eleven
On the eleventh day, she learns that even in her amnesic state, her mind isn't safe from the nightmares.
Ziva, stoic as ever, had emerged from the elevator determined to keep her emotions in check, and the Ari box sealed tightly shut. After Gibbs relayed what transpired to Tony, his concern had been waved off by Ziva with a small smile and a quick, "I'm fine." Tony let it go, though knowing she was anything but with the tension rolling off of her in almost discernible waves.
He should have anticipated the repercussions it could have, but enough time had passed since the last one that he no longer expected them. Piper had only been a few weeks old when Ziva last awoke in a fit of panic, and Tony related it to the stress and guilt she struggled with when first becoming a mother. The nightmares had began to plague her after her return from Somalia, and the intensity of them had taken Tony by surprise. And every time they occur, they are just as terrible as the night when Tony first bore witness to them.
Her ultimately futile efforts to hide them from Tony in the beginning of their relationship didn't last long. She was careful not to be so vulnerable around him and risking him finding out. Tony associated her avoidance of spending the night together those first few weeks of dating to their shared aversion and struggle with commitment. But one of their late movie nights resulted in them passing out together on her couch, and Tony woke long before Ziva finally filtered back to reality from her tortured conscious.
The nightmares never fail to render her defenseless. Her subconscious truly is her worst enemy. It isn't anything her training, skills, and assets are capable of protecting her from.
In the real world, she's conquered enemies, fate, and even death; there is always a way to control a situation, a weapon for every battle. But the rules of reality don't apply once over the threshold of the subconscious world. It is irony at it's best that one of her greatest weaknesses is herself; the capability of her mind to conjure up her darkest memories and the moments she so desperately desires to never relive. She emerges from these nightmares with the choked feeling of sand in her throat, the heat sweltering on her skin, and ringing in her ears of the commands in a language that to this day make her flinch. The owners of these voices haunt her in the darkness of which she wakes in, and before Tony joined her at night, the sun and it's shadow eliminating glow was her only liberator from her subconscious. It's memories aren't always the culprit, but Somalia is the most recurring theme in her nightmares.
It hadn't occurred to Tony to tell her about them.
That's what's frustrating about hindsight; it's always 20/20.
oOo
Exhausted and drained from the events of the day, and from her efforts at keeping up her facade of calm up for Piper, Ziva was more than ready to curl up and let sleep ease her conscious for a few precious hours.
After quietly shutting the door to Piper's room once she and Tony had tucked her in for the night, Ziva allowed her weariness to slip as she slumped against the door and looked up to meet Tony's gaze. Though concern shown in his eyes, he chuckled softly and gave her a soft smile that turned into a smirk at her attempt to return a smile of her own.
"You know what I think?" he asked her thoughtfully.
"You are capable of formulating thoughts?" she teased lightly.
He gave her a throaty chuckle as he snuck an arm around her waist lightly to guide her back toward their bedroom. She slumped against him, surrendering in her attempts to remain indifferent from the stress she was feeling.
"Cute," he replied sarcastically, before continuing.
"I vote in favor of not leaving the bed once tomorrow."
Ziva's laughter reverberated against him. Pushing open their door, they broke apart to climb into bed. Once settled under the covers and against Tony, she responded.
"Hmm . . . It does sound tempting. But I do not anticipate Piper being particularly thrilled about it."
Tony snorted and snaked an arm between her back against him and began softly scratching her back.
"Ziva, tereso, Italian is in her blood. She is capable of sleeping for as long as she desires."
It was Ziva's turn to snort as her eyes fluttered shut. She searched for Tony's free hand and traced it experimentally with her fingers.
"If you can make that happen I will let you pick all of the movies we watch tomorrow. Assuming you will force me to watch movies."
"Technically, today. It's zero-oh twelve. And you assumed correctly. You're on, sweetcheeks."
Ziva muttered in a string of Hebrew under her breath, and Tony smiled into her hair as they drifted off to sleep.
oOo
He doesn't know which woke him first; her strangled cry, or what he assumes was an elbow to his ribcage as he jolts awake and takes all about five seconds to adjust to what's happening. Through the sting of whip-lash, he spins around and targets the small lamp on the night table besides his pillow, switching it on, and the warm glow of the light permeates through the room, eradicating the dark and shadows.
He is up and moving beside Ziva on her side of the bed within moments. The adrenaline pounding in his ears blocks out the agonized noises coming from her, and he spares little thought to the possibility of Piper waking up. He pulls her forcefully into a sitting position, the movement successfully shocking her back into reality. He learned long ago not to attempt and still her flailing limbs with force, because it only triggers the nightmares more, not to mention her endearing instinct to incapacitate.
Her eyes snap open, already filling with tears and blinking furiously, trying to focus. He backs up quickly, crouching down beside her and keeping eye contact.
"Ziva, look at me," he says slowly and forcefully.
Breathing heavy, Ziva's streaming eyes remain on his as she blinks rapidly.
"Good. Deep breaths," he said encouragingly, moving to stand up again. He pauses for a few moments, then speaks.
"I'm not going to touch you," he warns slowly, "I'm going to fix your pillows, and I want you to lean back." He paused, waiting to make sure she heard him, "Blink if that's okay."
Ziva blinked, and brought her hand up unconsciously to rub her throat while Tony moved closer and adjusted her pillows and blanket. Once he moved back and nodded, she leaned back against her pillow and the headboard, closing her eyes as she concentrated on returning her breathing back to normal.
Tony remained crouched by her as the minutes passed until her hand finally left her throat and found his resting on the bed. He grasped her's back tightly, as he waited her to calm down.
He was on the precipice of falling asleep crouched by the bed when Ziva finally spoke, jerking him awake.
"This. . . is something that occurs often?" her voice betrays her despite her efforts, coming out shakily.
Tony opens his eyes to see her staring ahead at the wall, small tears still trailing slowly down her cheeks. He sighs, reaching a hand out to wipe them away swiftly. Standing up, he groans as his body protests and opts to crawl over her onto the bed rather than make the long journey around. He positions himself against the headboard next to her, and brings her into his arms carefully.
"Used to," he finally answers her softly, "A lot after Somalia. Where it started," his voice laced with pain as he replies.
Ziva nodded against him. Taking a deep breath, she spoke softly.
"The things . . . I see . . . I feel . . .in these dreams . . . they actually happened?" Her voice falters at the magnitude of what she's asking.
Tony's body jerked and he hugged her harder against him.
"I wish I could tell you no," he paused, "But all of the times this has happened before . . . you've said otherwise."
Silence settles between them for a while until it is Ziva who breaks it again.
"There was a man . . . Michael. In the beginning of my dream. Before he turned into . . ." she trailed off, swallowing loudly before she continued.
"He shot you. Killed you. He is someone I recognize . . . Mossad?"
Tony's hands running up and down her arms stilled while he digested her question.
"Yes," he said, finishing pointedly, "He was."
Ziva remained silent, but Tony felt her tears fall on the skin of his arms. Eventually, he shifted them so they were once again laying pressed against one another.
"Why tonight?"
Ziva's question was uttered so quietly he didn't register it for a few beats.
"Guess with the memory lapse about Ari yesterday, it stirred some old things up in that pretty head of yours."
She didn't respond to his answer, instead curling the blankets tighter around them, choosing not to dwell on the things she can and can't remember at this moment, and the things she can't help.
"Maybe Piper will be inclined to stay in bed all day with us if we allow her to choose our movie." She whispers some time later, trying to to recover and changing the subject, "You were right. We should not move from here for the whole day. I do not wish to leave the bed for the next twenty-four hours."
Tony awarded her a small chuckle, amazed at how determined she was to keep herself grounded and calm.
"She has excellent movie taste, so I have no trouble watching what she chooses. And by excellent taste, I mean my excellent taste." He whispered smugly.
Ziva squeezed his hand tightly.
"Toda, Tony," she whispered, pausing,
"Ani ohev otach."
He chuckled as tears pricked the back of his eyes.
"I never get tired of hearing that, sweetcheeks," emotion laced in his voice. He squeezed her hand back, hard.
"I love you too, Ziva."