Chapter Five- Fists Fly
Monique and Ziva for the longest time remained equally silent and still, just staring at each other. Monique then dared to move first, taking a couple steps towards her Israeli comrade before pulling her gloves back on. A small smile etched across her face before she stepped back onto the mat.
"Put your fucking gloves on, David... let's see what you've got." Monique said, more than ready to spar with her mentee.
For a long moment, Ziva stood there, rather shocked that she would still want to spar with her after all that had just transpired between them. She watched Monique as she stretched out her biceps and triceps. A breath of a laugh crept from Ziva and she tugged on a pair of boxing gloves. This obviously pleased the European woman, for a radiant grin came to her face.
"Thatta girl." She praised, bouncing on her toes a bit.
Ziva got onto the mat, holding her fists up into the air with a narrow eyed expression. Monique looked to Ziva, and held up her fists in front of her face, trotting up to Ziva. She swung, Ziva ducked before popping back up. She took her first swing, and Monique dodged out of the way, swinging right after. She got the side of Ziva's face, which caused her to fumble and Monique took advantage of this, getting another hit in. Though, right after the second, Ziva brought herself back up and hit the twenty-eight year old in the nose. She did not seem to falter in the slightest.
"Shit," Ziva muttered under her breath.
Monique smirked and took a couple more swings before moving her arm behind Ziva's neck and bending her forward before kicking her leg out from under her, causing her to fall to the mat. Just as she turned around to get back up, Monique had her pinned to the ground. Both were breathing heavily and Ziva did not know what it was she was feeling and she could barely comprehend anything in that moment. Monique, however, seemed so confident and sure of herself. Her face inched closer to the younger woman's and she began to count.
"1... 2... 3..." Monique said in a hot-breathed voice. "I win."
She stood to her feet quickly and offered out her hand to the brunette on the ground. Hesitantly, Ziva took it and got back up. What now?
"Round two." Monique challenged, trotting playfully around Ziva before taking the first swing, making contact with her jaw.
That one actually hurt. Ziva took a few moments to recover from the blow before swinging a couple times herself. And they must have spent fifteen minutes at this until Ziva mimicked the European's actions by kicking her out from under herself and pinning her into the mat. She spent several long and silent moments looking across her features before slowly letting go of her wrists, taking off her gloves.
"That was good. I... I think we should call it a day, Monique." Ziva spoke, her voice very timid and uncharacteristic.
What had Ziva suddenly behaving in such a manner? Was it something she did? Was she hurt. Monique quickly got to her feet and watched as Ziva began walking towards the door. She wanted to do anything in her power to stop her but she knew if she tried, that nothing would go right. Ziva, meanwhile, left the training center, full of self loathing. She was so confused, so petrified of what this meant for her as an individual. What did these emotions make her? As she had the older woman pinned, she felt nothing more strong in her entire life. She wanted, in that moment, nothing more than to kiss her. Fuck, she should not want to kiss her. Should she?
Once she was back in her room, she shut the door and leaned back against the door. Why? Why did this have to happen, to her of all people? Why did she have to be the one in the family having feelings for another woman? Luck of the draw? First born daughter? Genetic? Instilled? She was never less certain about something before in her whole existence. Ziva could no longer stand the fact that she had fallen head over heels for her. She also could not stand avoiding her. It was this mental tug and pull in opposing directions. And in that evening, she was unable to maintain her composure. She started to cry. Not only because she found herself depressed for the first time since her mother passed, but because she thought she loved someone she could not have. And that was what made the realization so much more painful.