Chapter Six- Fixing Things
Ziva sat in her quarters the next morning, her eyes fixated on the city life beyond the window in her living room. She bit her lip pensively as she thought of what she should do. She wanted to do something for and or with Monique in order to make up for her ignorant words and abrupt exit. The only question was, what was she to do?
There were many options. Maybe take her shopping? Ziva did not like it alot herself, but Monique was a girl. Perhaps she would be different? Perhaps she would wish to go? Or they could go see a movie? Go on a walk? Ziva then rejected those ideas. Too much like a date, she reasoned. They could not do it. They could not be seen together in such a setting. Then it dawned on her. Lunch. She could take her to lunch. A tiny smile formed across her heart shaped face and she instantly lunged for her cell phone which laid seven feet away. Once she had it in her hand, she dialed Monique's number, a number she would not forget for the rest of her existence. Almost impatiently, she waited for the older woman to answer.
"Ziva, hello." Monique greeted, genuinely surprised to hear from the woman she thought she would never see again. "I... I did not expect you to call."
"Why is that, Monique?" Ziva asked as she began to pace around mindlessly, randomly touching things within her reach as she did so.
"Well... I seemed to have upset you again." Monique responded, struggling to take off the jacket she so stupidly decided she could wear outside of the air conditioned apartment. "The way you walked out today... I thought I would never speak to you again."
A little piece of Ziva's heart started to break when she heard the sorrow lacing Monique's accented tone. She knew then that she needed to take Monique out, make amends. Was she really such a terrible person? What was happening to her that was making her so cruel?
"Oh, Monique... that's not true. I am so sorry I gave you that impression." The Israeli spoke, sinking into the couch as she spoke. "Monique?"
Monique smiled as her jacket finally hit the floor and she stood by the window, looking longingly towards the Mossad building. She could see it from her hotel and with every time she saw it, the more she wanted Ziva.
"Yes?"
Ziva bit her lip for a moment, her nerves becoming rather frayed. She opened her mouth to say what was whirling around in her mind, though she could not seem to verbalize anything. Where had her voice suddenly gone? Clearing her throat, she then attempted to speak.
"I want to make it up to you, okay? I want to make all of this bullshit up to you." Ziva confessed, looking up at the ceiling with a defeated sigh. "Can I take you out to lunch? I mean, are you hungry?"
"I would love to go to lunch with you." Monique replied with a radiant smile. "Well, you are the native. You should choose the place."
"Okay, I will... see you in about fifteen... twenty minutes. That enough time?" Ziva responded.
"Yes, Ziva... see you soon." Monique replied with a nod before she hung up the phone.
Ziva too hung up her phone and began to run her fingers through her hair. What was happening here? Was this a date, just as she wished to avoid? Was this just two friends going out to eat? Was there something there? Could Ziva allow herself to be something other than a friendship? Good God, who was she trying to fool? She wasn't even gay! Nothing was making sense anymore. Little did the young Israeli realize was that she was not alone.
Monique was frustratedly rummaging through her clothing shoved into her suitcase. She was aimlessly trying to find something nice to wear on her date with Ziva. Date?! No. No. Monique could not think of it that way. It was not a date. It could not be a date. She could not allow herself to go down the road of dating a woman ten years younger than herself who had one hell of a time trying to convince Monique that she was not a lesbian. Monique liked to think she knew better. But, she did not. And she knew that. She knew it like she knew her way around Spain, in her heart.
"Fuck!" Monique shouted, tossing a blouse across the room. "FUCK!"
Her screams were so vehement and anguish-ridden. She no longer knew what to do with herself. Her heart was insanely beating in her name. The name of Ziva. She wanted the officer more than anything she had ever once wanted before. But, this, like most things she desired, she could not have. And to be honest, it broke her resolve and frayed her nerves to the core. And she could not handle this anymore.
Ziva dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, not wishing to dress too flashy for the European for fear of making the wrong impression. As she did her hair and makeup, her mind went through things to talk about with her in a mechanical manner. Other than the obvious, se wished to talk about other things, make conversation during the lunch. When she finished, she sighed and took a moment to mentally prepare herself. She had no idea what she was getting into here, whether it was uncharted territory or familiar ground, but she knew she needed to be ready for whatever was to happen. Regardless, she was doing this because she knew she had to fix things between her and her mentor if anything was ever going to work correctly between them.