Making Rules
Thank you all for your lovely feedback so far!
Please note that our rating has gone up to T. There will be discussions of rape in this chapter, though more about recovery than graphic descriptions of the act itself. I did do some internet research to back up some of the things Tony says; I hope this is realistic enough without being too upsetting.
Ziva woke and stretched out across her bed. For once they hadn't been called in on a Sunday and she'd slept until the light from outside roused her. Ziva shifted to see the clock. It was nearly ten already, she noted in surprise. And if she'd dreamt, she didn't remember it.
A clicking from outside made her sit up abruptly. Tony had slept over on the fold-out couch. Slipping out of bed, she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and use the toilet. Since she had struck him while dreaming a few weeks before they hadn't slept in the same bed. Ziva regretted the awkwardness but also didn't want to risk hurting him.
Straightening her pajamas, Ziva opened her bedroom door. Tony had folded the couch back into itself and was sitting cross-legged with her laptop open across his legs.
"Having cyber-sex?" she asked teasingly.
Tony slammed the laptop closed, looking up guiltily, before he took in her words. Then he tried to grin in response but Ziva was already frowning.
"What were you looking at?" she demanded.
"Nothing, I--"
She leaned forward and grabbed the computer, only to have Tony grip it in turn, his eyes panicked.
"Ziva, don't--" Tony began, but when he saw the irritation in her eyes turn to fear, he released his hold on it.
"I thought we said no secrets," Ziva said quietly, not opening the laptop yet.
Tony pursed his lips.
"What were you looking at?" she asked again.
He swallowed hard. He hadn't closed the window; all she had to do was lift the lid to see for herself. "Looking at websites about recovering from rape." Tony watched Ziva's eyes go wide, saw her grip tighten involuntarily. "When I searched...you had visited those sites before."
She looked down at him, wary-eyed. "Yes." Ziva set the laptop down on a side table, out of his reach, and began to walk away toward the kitchen.
"Shouldn't this be something we can talk about?" Tony called after her.
Ziva spun, but didn't speak for a long moment. "I don't know how," she finally managed. She looked away. "And I don't want to spoil the morning remembering...that."
Tony sighed quietly. "Alright, but sooner or later we need to."
She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "Later, then."
*
A half-hour later, breakfast made, they had finally resumed normal conversation when Ziva's cellphone rang. She grabbed it off its charger and glanced down at the name on the screen. Damon.
"Excuse me," she murmured to Tony and slipped into the bedroom.
He watched the door, forcing himself to chew loudly and not try to eavesdrop.
Finally Ziva emerged, her posture nervous again. "That was Damon," she announced.
Tony's eyes darkened.
Ziva held out a hand to pacify him. "He is moving tomorrow. But he is my friend and I...I am having dinner with him tonight."
Jealousy flared through him. "Well, one of the rules has to be that we don't flirt with other people."
She went from tentative to defensive in a flash. "You do not get to make these rules by yourself, Tony. We have to decide them together."
"Oh, so you think I should go out and find some young thing to sleep with while you're having dinner with a man who couldn't keep his eyes off you a few days ago?" As the words sleep with left his mouth, Tony saw Ziva's eyes fall and even as he finished speaking he regretted his words. "Look," he set a hand on his hip. "This time I am jealous. It's not the most rational thing in the world, but I am."
Ziva nodded, her gaze still downcast. "If you wanted to...find someone else, for that, I would understand," she said very softly.
He shook his head, stepped toward her and lifted Ziva's chin to make her look at him. "That's not at all what I'm talking about. I have no problem waiting until you're ready. I just want to know that when you're ready it'll be with me and not...someone else."
She shrugged, irritated now that they were back to that topic. "I told you he was just my friend, Tony. What more do you want from me?"
Tony sighed. "I don't know. It's not rational. I trust you, but it still makes me a little crazy."
"A little?" Ziva teased. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to him. "I was being honest when I said last week that Damon and I have some things in common, that I appreciate talking to him. But he could not take your place in my life."
Tony hugged her back. "Good." He paused. "Can no flirting still be a rule?"
Ziva laughed against his collarbone.
"What?"
"Palmer suggested something about 'Love the one you're with.'"
"I'll kill him," Tony snarled jokingly.
"I think he meant you."
"Oh."
Ziva leaned back. "Sometimes it is necessary to flirt on cases. For both of us," she said evenly.
"Well, no enjoying it with other people," Tony proposed. She flinched and Tony kicked himself. "Ziva, I meant--"
She shook her head to silence him.
"We have to be able to talk about this," Tony said firmly, loosening his arms around her waist and holding her by the shoulders.
Ziva looked up at him miserably. "I will come by after dinner. We can talk then."
"Okay." Tony released her. "Well, I have to go home and do some laundry on this lovely Sunday. But I'll see you later." He moved around her apartment, gathering his clothes from the night before and setting his dishes in her sink. Ziva watched, frozen, from the center of the living room.
"Tony," she said softly when he was ready to leave.
He turned to her.
"Always be faithful." She paused. "Is that the right way to say it?"
Tony smiled. "Yeah."
She walked to where he stood by the door and rested a hand on Tony's shoulder, leaned up to kiss him lightly. "You have nothing to be jealous of."
He kissed her again. "I'll see you tonight."
*
Ziva tilted her head back, laughing.
"And if I didn't ring the damn bell after that, I was never going to," Damon finished, grinning at her.
She struggled to breathe. They'd spent the last two hours playfully debating whether training for the Marines or the Israeli Army was more hard-core and telling stories about the pranks and hazing incidents in their careers. Ziva sighed. "Well, once I--"
Their waitress stepped forward at that moment, setting down the check. The girl had been nervous since she'd come by with their dessert and overheard a story about dismembered limbs.
"Thanks," Damon said reassuringly, taking the check.
Ziva reached at once for her purse. "Let me pay," she said firmly.
"That's alright," Damon protested.
She plucked the paper from his fingers. "At the moment I am the only one of us who is employed. When you are in town next, you can trick me."
Damon frowned, perplexed, as he watched her dig for her credit card. "Treat you?" he finally asked.
"What?"
"You meant pay for dinner, right?"
"Of course." Ziva gave him a blank stare.
Damon shrugged. "Sure thing." He reached over and squeezed her arm in gratitude.
Ziva smiled at him, then glanced down to calculate the tip. Damon stroked a finger down along her hand, and suddenly she wasn't focused on the numbers. For a moment, in spite of her words to Tony earlier that day, she thought about the choice she had to make right now. The obvious answer was to tell him about Tony and go home. But it might be easier to have the first time be like this, where she didn't have to see him again if it went badly, where she didn't really care what he thought of her. Ziva glanced up at Damon. But she didn't want to use him. And it would hurt Tony.
"I have started seeing Agent DiNozzo," she said hesitantly.
Damon snatched his hand away at once. "Of course," he said awkwardly. "I'll get our coats."
Ziva winced in sympathy as she watched him walk away, then returned to her calculations.
*
She was grateful that the evening had been pleasant, that the dinner conversation had been light, but as Ziva sat outside Tony's apartment building half an hour later, her heart was already pounding with anxiety.
Just remembering what had happened in Somalia, the rough dirt floor beneath her back, the rope abrading her wrists, the stabbing pain, was enough to make her want to crawl out of her own skin. She had had men want her purely for her body before, certainly; Ziva was no stranger to the uses of her sexuality. But she had always been in control of it. To be rendered a thing, less than a person, had torn into her more deeply than any of their physical efforts. They had reduced her to nothingness: no agency, no choice. Over and over and over. Ziva squeezed her eyes closed, but the images were inside her head.
A tapping at the window made her jerk, startled.
Tony peered in, caught a glimpse of her expression. His eyes grew concerned. He opened the door, already shaking his head. "I didn't mean to push you, Ziva. If you still can't--"
Now Ziva shook her head. "We should talk, Tony. You were right."
"Okay." He stopped. "Are you ready to come in?"
She nodded hesitantly and followed him inside.
*
Inside the apartment the curtains were open, revealing Ziva's car parked on the street below. Tony entered and turned to see Ziva hesitating on the threshold. He took her hand gently and drew her inside. "Sit down?" he offered, gesturing to the couch.
She took a seat at one end, leaning back against the arm and drawing her knees up to her chest. Tony sat down in the middle, leaving a foot between them. When Ziva stayed silent, he began to speak. "What I read said that I should let you talk about it, and be patient, and let you decide about how intimate we get and how fast." She still didn't answer. Tony sighed. "I know I said I didn't want you to tell me, that night when you had a nightmare. I'm ready now. I want to help you."
Ziva pressed her forehead against her knees. "Alright, Tony," she said softly. "I will tell you."
He flinched, bracing himself to hear something he knew he could never fully be ready for.
She kept her head down as she spoke. "The first couple weeks or so—it was hard to keep track of time—they thought they would get information out of me. They beat me, tortured me. They had less training in interrogation than I did and it was painful but not hard to resist. But after that..." Her voice sank to a whimper. "I still had potential use as a hostage, but it did not matter what condition I was in. Saleem let his men use me for their enjoyment." Her voice trembled on the last word. She went on, describing in broad strokes the acts that had been forced upon her, trying to spare Tony the details.
When she finally ran out of words, Ziva leaned back, easing her fingers out of the tense fists they'd formed on her elbows. She looked to Tony at last, waiting for his judgment.
His face was impassive, but Tony's eyes were blazing.
Ziva shrank back.
Tony held out his hands at once, helpless for a moment to explain what he was feeling. "I just want to kill them all for hurting you," he said, irate, his whole face taken over by the feeling.
She exhaled in a way that was almost a cry.
"Ziva?" he asked, putting aside his anger in the face of her emotion.
She met his eyes, forced out the question that had gnawed at her for months. "You still want me?"
"Of—of course." Tony reached for her, then hesitated. "Is it alright if--?"
Ziva nodded and he took her arms, tugged her against him so that she was sitting between his legs with her head resting on his chest. Tony settled his arms around Ziva's waist. "Nothing they could do could change my feelings for you," he said quietly in her ear. "Nothing."
"Thank you," Ziva whispered, almost too faintly for him to hear.
He hugged her more tightly. "You'll let me know what you're ready for?"
"Mmhmm," she murmured, beginning to relax. "Can we just sit here for a while?"
Tony pressed his lips gently to her temple. "Of course."