Chapter Four

Ziva pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as they entered the airport. Tony wandered in behind her, gazing around.

"I doubt you are going to find any buxom blondes in Israel, Tony," Ziva said, smirking.

Tony remained straight-faced. "I wasn't babe-watching, Ziva."

"That's a first," she mumbled.

Tony stopped walking. Ziva was a few yards ahead of him before she noticed and turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"Why am I here, Ziva?" Tony asked seriously.

Ziva set her mouth in a line. "Do I need to remind you?"

He waved away her question. "No, no, I know why I'm here, but why me? You clearly don't want me here."

Ziva spun around and began walking again. "In case you have failed to realize it, not everything is about you."

Tony jogged to catch up to her, but remained behind her, talking to her back. "No, I know this isn't about me. I think it's about you and your inability to confront your feelings."

Ziva spun around again, almost knocking Tony over in the process. "You are really one to talk about confronting feelings, you, who fell in love with your undercover assignment!"

That was all it took for Tony to let it out. "Well, at least I'm not trying to kid two men into thinking I have feelings for both of them!" Ziva looked shocked and remained speechless as Tony continued. "Yeah, I'm thinking if we ever did end up sleeping together, I'd have to listen carefully because it might just be McGee's name you'd be calling out."

He stared at her with blazing eyes, and all she wanted to do was slap him, but she didn't even have the energy to do that. She turned on her heel and continued on her way, determined not to let him see her cry. She had a feeling something like this would happen, yet she still insisted on pushing Tony to the point where his words would turn hurtful.

She could hear him behind her, having realized his faux pas and wanting to apologize, but she kept walking. She didn't want to hear it.

"Ziva, I'm sorry," Tony was saying. "I'm supposed to be here for you and I'm being an ass." Ziva continued to ignore him. "Okay, so you're not listening to me. Fine. I deserve that. I just want to know your intentions."

Ziva stopped walking and Tony nearly ran into her before halting himself. She slowly turned to face him, raising her eyes to meet his. "I do not know what I want, Tony. All I know is I do not want to hurt anyone or lose anyone because of a misunderstanding. I care about both of you." She finished, lowering her eyes.

"I know you do, Ziva," Tony said softly. "But you're going to have to make a choice if you ever want to be happy."

Ziva looked back up at him, momentarily surprised by how . . . human he was being. "I . . . I'm not ready to make that decision. I was hoping that coming here would," she shrugged, "help me get my mind off it."

Tony gave her a thoughtful look. "So you really don't know who you want to be with?"

She let out a huff, slightly frustrated. "My father has just died and all you care about is my love life?"

"Of course not, Ziva," Tony replied automatically. "I just want you to be happy." He paused. "I'm sure McGee feels the same way."

Ziva's face fell at the mention of McGee's name. She felt truly awful about the way things had had to happen, about not bringing him with her to Israel. But she knew in her heart that while Tony's strengths laid on his outside, McGee's were what people couldn't see by looking at him. He had the better emotional capacity to handle being left behind . . . even if that was far from what she was doing.

"I need to make a phone call," Ziva murmured, and Tony nodded to himself, knowing who she was calling and probably even what they would talk about. Ziva mimicked Tony's nod. "I will wait until we arrive at the hotel. I need some . . . privacy."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Of course."

They left the airport . . .

. . . just as McGee was stepping into his apartment. He yawned and headed for the kitchen, eager to eat some dinner and maybe get some writing done.

If he could stop thinking about Ziva, that was.

He wanted to know how she was holding up, if Tony was driving her crazy or if he had changed and was becoming everything she wanted.

Just as he was contemplating the nature of Tony's character, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered. "McGee." Silence on the other end. He waited . . . and waited, before taking a chance and asking, "Ziva?"

There was a huff on the other end and he smiled. "How did you know it was me?"

"Who else would be calling me from Israel?" he asked, and he could almost hear her scoff.

"Your phone does not say that."

He shrugged, even though he knew Ziva couldn't see it. "It is an iPhone. They can do pretty much anything." There was a warm silence, then he asked, "How are you?"

She paused, letting out a deep breath. "That is why I called, Tim."

McGee nodded to himself. "I figured as much. Is Tony around?"

She hesitated, then said, "Yes, but it is you I wanted to speak with."

McGee felt a flutter in his stomach upon hearing her words. Tony was right there with her, but she wanted to talk to him, McGee, the big Elf Lord computer geek.

"I am regretting the decision I have made in bringing Tony with me," Ziva confided. "He has been completely insufferable."

"Well, it's too late for me to switch spots with him," McGee said, then cringed at his words. "Sorry, that sounded a lot worse than I imagined it would."

"No, no, I see what you are saying," Ziva said.

"So . . . do you need me to do something for you?" McGee asked. "I mean, is there something I can do?"

There was a lull in the conversation, and McGee started to repeat the question when Ziva spoke. "What I want from you, you cannot give over the phone."

McGee felt his heart jolt. "I'll send good thoughts your way, how about that?" he said after a moment, kicking himself for not having the courage to tell her what she meant to him, how he wanted to be there with her right now, soothing her fears and comforting her pain. "Don't let . . ." he started, then thought better of it and tried again. "I hope Tony takes good care of you, Ziva."

He heard a muffled noise on the other end and his heart nearly broke in two. Was Ziva crying? "I will try," she said. Her voice sounded still, at least. But Ziva was good at masking her emotions. "I have some legal things to sort through and the service is tomorrow. I shall be returning home shortly thereafter."

Home. She said it like she belonged in America. And she did. Still . . . "But Ziva, don't you want to . . ."

"No." Her voice was firm. "I need this to be over. None of this was supposed to happen, not this way. I want to get back to my life, get back to how I want things to be."

"Well, I want you back here, too," McGee said. "Jethro misses you. Gibbs might, too."

A choking laugh. At least he got that. "Tell Jethro I will be back soon. I miss our walks." There was another comfortable silence, then Ziva said, "I must go. I just wanted to call you and let you know how I was doing."

"I'm glad you did, Ziva," McGee replied honestly. "I will see you again once you get back to the States."

"Yes, I will have to make dinner for you and we can . . . talk. Just us." McGee took a deep breath. "Goodbye, Tim."

He let out the breath. "Goodbye, Ziva."

The call was disconnected and McGee set his phone down on his writing desk, sitting down and burying his head in his hands . . .

. . . as Ziva simply stared at the phone on the hotel room's nightstand. A tear trickled down her face.

The door opened and Tony entered. "Hey, you done with your phone call?" he asked. She didn't make any move to enter, so he walked closer to her. "Ziva?"

He finally reached her, noticing her current state, and let out a breath. "Hey, you alright? Come here." He held his arms open and she didn't move; of course not – she wasn't a hugger. "I don't bite, Ziva," he attempted. She looked up at him and he saw the tears, the look in her eyes.

He didn't have to say anything else. He couldn't say anything else. He held his arms open again and she rose from the bed hesitantly, walking into his embrace. He closed his arms around her back and she allowed her hands to travel up to his shoulders as she laid her head on his chest, just wanting it all to be over.

"Shh, it's okay," Tony had finally found his voice and was cooing. His hands were rubbing calming lines down her back. "Let it all out. Just let it out."

The thoughts from the past few days ravaged their way through Ziva's brain at Tony's words, and the tears grew heavier and she began to sob. The tears were as much for her father as they were for her own heart, for her confusion and loss and aching. She loved her father, she loved Tony, she loved Tim. She couldn't have them all; she'd already lost one and the one she knew loved her selflessly was thousands of miles away.

Her voice seeped into Tony's shirt. "I miss him."

He sighed. "I know you do."

And somehow, he knew she wasn't just talking about her father.