Chapter Seven-Figuring It All Out
Ziva could feel her heart racing against her chest, like unrelenting fire burning within her permanently. It took every ounce of courage she had just to leave her quarters, and when Ziva left the Mossad building in and of itself, she got even more nervous. Did she have anything to be nervous about? Running a hand through her hair, the Israeli walked to Monique's hotel and found the room in which she was staying. It took her ten times of walking from one side of the hall to the other, her fist going up each time in order to knock on the door. Good God, she was not ready for this. Someone come tap her out. Sadly, this was not a possibility, and she was going to need to suck it up and get Monique out to lunch. She just needed to make it up to Monique. Shoving her hands into her pockets, waiting for Monique to open the door and when she did, she swallowed hard, wanting to faint right then and there. Ziva bit her bottom lip and waved to Monique. There was so much Ziva wanted to say, though she knew she could not. So, she went with something frank and simple.
"Hello," She greeted, a tiny smile playing across the eighteen year old's rose-colored lips.
"Hello Ziva." Monique replied, her eyes sneakily wandering Ziva's frame for a moment before returning to meet her gaze.
She then reached behind herself and took her wallet from the table along with her room key before stepping outside into the hall, firmly planting herself next to Ziva before closing the door and securing it.
"Shall we go or did you wish to step inside for a moment?" Monique asked, looking to the Israeli with a curiously raised eyebrow as her thumb gestured behind her, over her shoulder.
'That would be the worst idea in history,' Ziva thought to herself before shaking her head.
"No, we can just go." She replied, hands up slightly. "Though, you need not bring money." She added gesturing towards the wallet Monique shoved into her pocket. "I am paying." Ziva stated firmly before leading the way.
Ziva continued walking with Monique until they got to Roslyn's, a little restaurant in which her mother would always frequent, often times taking the young Israeli with her.
"You, my friend, will love the falafels... if that's what you get. Whatever you get, I'm sure you'll love." Ziva spoke, gently touching Monique's arm as she spoke though quickly pulled away when she realized what she was doing.
Ziva allowed the hostess to lead the two brunettes to a table and they sat together. The restaurant was beautifully lit and the people all around seemed so happy to be there. That was the dynamic of the place. It was rather friendly, and homely, though nice and eloquent. Though this was not really what Ziva was focused on. The hostess handed them both menus and with a friendly smile she told the pair of the specials. Ziva bit her lip as she looked over the menu, more nervous and shy than she had ever been in this sort of setting.
As Ziva lead Monique to the restaurant, the older woman could not help but to feel uneasy. The way Ziva carried herself seemed different, as if she had not only become more confident, but also become more nervous, anxious even. Monique shook her head when she mentioned paying and took my seat with her, before proceeding to look over her menu after the hostess left.
"I think I will just have what you are having and a glass of water." Monique said, putting the menu down, not really sure what she would have wanted from such a place.
She then allowed her hands to be clasped together on the table, resting there as her right foot tapped the floor beneath, her mind all the while thinking of Ziva in situations it should not. She envisioned herself sitting beside Ziva, her hand slowly snaking up her thigh and going discreetly to her belt... No. Stop. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she looked out of the window they sat beside for just a moment before looking back to the Israeli before her.
"Okay," Ziva spoke, looking out of the corner of her eye as she peered up from the menu.
her eyes scanned over Monique and she could not help but to notice the cleavage spilling from her shirt. NO! NO! Stop this!, Ziva shouted at herself within her head. Ziva tore her eyes away and decided to order an Israeli Salad and also got water. Her appetite was suddenly diminishing. She could not handle this. she shut her menu and ordered for the pair when the waitress came over. Ziva ran a hand through her hair and rested her head on her hand as her elbow propped her up. There were so many questions swarming the Israeli's mind. But there was no way she feasibly could ask some of them.
"So..." Ziva started, looking to Monique as her heart leaped into her throat.
"What is it Ziva, you seemed to have something on your mind when you called. I assumed there was a reason for this lunch... What do you wish to speak to me about?" Monique questioned, getting straight to the point, looking to her with a puzzled expression, trying to figure out what it was that Ziva wanted.
She could not help but to feel as though she were getting whiplash from Ziva's words and actions, that tug and pull that went on with her... so close one moment, so distant the next.
"Tell me, what is on your mind." She added, sipping her glass of water after it had arrived.
Ziva let out a slight sigh before looking to Monique with apologetic eyes. She sat back in her seat, running her tongue over her bottom lip before speaking.
"Well, it is as I said. It's an apology. I feel awful for just walking out of the gym like that." Ziva said in a breath, shrugging afterwards. "I do not know what is going on with me, to be honest." Ziva added sincerely.
Though, part of her did know... She was just too far into denial that she could not quite understand anything yet.
"I am so sorry... please... forgive me?"
"An apology really isn't needed, Ziva you simply left... It is not as if you had an obligation to stay. Though this lunch is a rather nice gesture." Monique replied, sipping her water once more before setting it down onto the table between them.
She shivered for a moment when a single droplet dripped onto her chest. Wiping it away, the European woman could not help but to chuckle.
"Well, at least it was water and not food." Monique murmured, glancing up at Ziva after speaking.
Ziva could not keep herself from staring as she did this and when the other woman spoke, Ziva yanked her eyes away. Good God, she needed help. This was not healthy, was it?
"Um... yeah... there's that." She replied, trying to act as if she had not witnessed anything.
They spent a while simply talking about their interests and various other small topic discussions and when it grew silent again. Ziva picked at her plate with her fork for the longest while before looking up at Monique. Ziva watched her as she took a long drink of her water.
"When did you know you were gay?" Ziva asked abruptly.
When Ziva asked me the question about Monique's realization of her own sexuality, she could not help but to choke on a bit of her water. She then swallowed the rest of it before clearing her throat. This certainly not a question that she expected to be asked, especially so suddenly and bluntly.
"Well, I suppose it was in my childhood when I first noticed that I was not like other girls my age. Though the moment I knew for certain that I was a lesbian was the night I had my very first kiss. Her name was Marina..." Monique replied, her mind drifting off to that fond memory for a short while before her eyes met Ziva's.
"When did you know you were straight?" Monique asked in a joking manner, hoping to elicit a smile from the young Israeli.
This jolt of electricity hit Ziva when she asked that question. It was one Ziva could not answer. She had never kissed a boy. Never liked a boy. She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders almost shyly.
"I do not know how to answer that question..." Ziva spoke, my voice trailing off as the confusion of the uncertain filled her heart shaped face. "I... uh... I really do not." Ziva added, brows furrowed as her eyes went from Monique to her food.
It was in that instant that she remembered that time when Roslyn's granddaughter, Sylvia kissed her at her bat mitzvah. She was Ziva's first and only kiss, but she pushed her away and told her that she was bad. God, was she really such a horrible person? She must hate Ziva so much, still. She looked up from her food and allowed her eyes to go to the European woman.
"So are you saying that you have doubts? About your own sexuality?" Monique questioned, somewhat hopeful yet now nervous that she would inevitably cut our lunch short and run out again.
Angry with Monique for prying into Ziva's personal life, even though she had opened the lid to this pandora's box all by herself.
"It is simple really, the way in which you go about figuring such things out." Monique added before sipping her water.
"Yes, Monique... I have doubts." Ziva replied, her tone stern yet not angry.
Her eyes looked to Monique for a long while before she spoke again.
"You want to know something, since I was ten my father instilled into me the ideas of what my plan was going to be. All my focus was, was school school school, boot camp boot camp boot camp, army army army, train train train, mossad mossad mossad. That's the dynamic of eight years of my life. It's not exactly as if I had time to wonder who I liked when my life was surrounded by guns, knives, bombs, and terrorists..." Ziva explained, looking at Monique as she spoke vehemently. "And it is not so simple very everyone... though if you think you simplify it for me, then by all means, do it... because you, my friend, would be doing me a great favor."
Monique could not help but to sit there in awe of the young woman and her voice, listening intently to her words as she spoke of her life and how it had practically been mapped out for her. Monique then smirked slightly upon feeling as if Ziva had challenged her.
"Well Ziva, why don't you look around this room for me and tell me the first person who you would wish to take home and make love to." Monique replied, gesturing around the room.
She had noticed a few handsome men as well as a few gorgeous women, curious as to who Ziva would wish to be intimate with, whom she found physically attractive.
"Do not think of what your father would want you to do, or who he would prefer you with. This is all about your desires, your urges and needs." She added in a hushed tone as her eyes locked with Ziva's.
Ziva looked around the room, finding some people fairly good looking but nothing that she would want to wake up next to tomorrow morning. And then she looked back to Monique and her heart thudded within her chest. Ziva inhaled sharply and shook her head slightly, tears stinging her eyes.
"I do not think you would like my answer very much." Ziva replied, running my tongue over my bottom lip as she tried my hardest not to cry.
Ziva feared that if Monique knew the answer, she would not wish to be around her anymore. Or something. One single tear rolled down her cheek as her hands gripped her thighs.
"Ziva, it does not matter what my feelings about your answer are, what I think or anyone else for the matter. It is only up to you, this is your life, your feelings and your heart. You know deep within you what you desire, I know this because I can see it in your eyes." Monique said softly in reply, reaching out and wiping the tear drop on Ziva's face away before caressing her smoothly skinned cheek.
"Take your life into your own hands, do what you wish, act upon your desires and see where it leads you. If it is a risk you are afraid of, just remember that life is full of risks that we must take to actually live." She added, smiling softly to Ziva, thinking that in this room was a person whom she would leave with after paying the check.
She did not dare to think that the person was in fact herself. Though she could not help but to have hope in trying to avoid the mere thought of her lips pressed against Ziva's own as her arms wrapped around her waist.
Ziva nodded as Monique talked, knowing that it does and did in fact matter. It mattered quite a bit actually. For it was she whom Ziva desired most. And it was a much bigger risk to take with her than any of the other patrons, male or female.
"But it does, Monique..." Ziva refuted. "It does matter!" she insisted before visibly looking defeated. "It matters because it's you." Ziva emphasized, near the point of sobbing. "It's always been you. Don't you get it?"