Always Be there
** * ** * ** * **
Ziva sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Susan glared at her gloomy movie partner. They were curled up on the older woman's couch, watching the new Die Hard movie – which, so far, hadn't even received a single critique from the Mossad Officer. Susan was tempted to start yelling corrections at the screen herself, just in attempt to create an illusion of normalcy.
Truth was, Ziva had been inconsolable since the talent show exactly one week ago. Sure, the woman had been crankier than a cat in a bathtub, but Susan had easily picked up on the more subtle broken heart vibes that had just been rolling off the Israeli.
Snnnnft.
The teenager glanced to her left. Her eyes widened incredulously. Ziva was snuffling into her tissue, staring blankly at the screen as Bruce Willis launched a car at a helicopter.
This had to end now.
If Ziva wasn't going to talk to Tony, she would do it herself. This was just ridiculous.
Amazing! How is it that the most cool and collected adults, who regularly laugh at our love sick antics, can be reduced to such quivering, trembling states?
"Ziva, I'm gonna borrow your car. I'll bring back pizza – I doubt they'll deliver here after Wednesday's fiasco." Ziva looked up sharply, glaring heatedly. Susan lifted her hands defensively. "Which I'm not going to mention – ever, I swear! But I want pizza."
After another long moment of glaring, Ziva muttered something crankily about Canadian bacon and pineapples. Susan grabbed up her jacket and swept out of the house, swiping Ziva's Motorola along with the keys.
Biting her lip hopefully, she scrolled through the address book. There were remarkably few entries. Then again, that made sense. Susan didn't know a lot about Ziva's life before she came to America, but she did know that the woman was into some stuff that was considered classified. Susan had witnessed firsthand how carefully paranoid the ex-secret agent/spy (Ziva had never admitted to that, but Susan was confident in her guess) could be, even in the safety of her own home. She probably had most of the important, and even non-important, numbers memorized. Luckily, Anthony DiNozzo's number didn't count.
It was there, fourth on the list, along with a picture, e-mail address, home phone number, and – here she squealed, just a little – his physical address.
The tires of the Mini-cooper squealed as she rounded a corner – after all, Ziva had taught her how to drive "properly".
** * ** * ** * **
Tony glanced at his phone, again.
He'd spent most of this past week, after Abby's revelation, trying to corner Ziva somewhere they could talk.
She had been avoiding him like the plague. Okay, well maybe not entirely. She would creep up on him and deliver some of the nastiest little comments she could think of and then flit away. She was actually quite good at it – Tony liked to think that she'd learned a trick or two from him, even though he wasn't happy to be on the receiving end of his own jokes.
No, a personal phone call from him would do absolutely no good.
So, he was trying to distract himself – by cooking.
He was actually quite good. When he was eight, his father had gone through a food phase – Tony didn't really know what else to call it. Oh, the elder DiNozzo was probably just trying to get on the good side of some powerful businessman who happened to be a connoisseur of fine cuisine. Whatever the reason, he'd seen fit to higher three chefs for his personal kitchen.
Tony had spent a great deal of time there with the three lively souls. Of course, his father had eventually found out, and promptly fired the lot of them, but not before Tony had learned to love the art of cooking. Still, to this day, he found cooking to be a very relaxing exercise for him.
Even so, dicing veggies couldn't keep his mind from wandering completely.
Ziva.
He'd done a lot of thinking this week, and while he understood the problem better, he felt worse about the whole situation. He knew why Ziva was acting the way she was.
He also understood Gibbs' sad 'look' that night he'd asked Tony if he was going to the talent show, and now his reluctance to counsel Tony about the present situation.
Ziva liked Tony that way.
Normally, Tony would be elated at this discovery.
But she wasn't ready for a relationship. She couldn't even admit to herself that she liked Tony as more than a colleague. Hell, she wouldn't even admit that he was any more than an acute annoyance at work!
Tony sighed and set down his knife, leaning against the counter. Tony had always been attracted to Ziva – even if he had resented her at first, for being Kate's replacement. Over the years, however, he'd grown to respect and care about her.
Just as with Kate however, Tony had abided by Gibbs' rule number 12 – no dating coworkers. It wasn't really just because it was Gibbs rule – Tony was afraid he'd screw it up. Screwing up a relationship with a teammate – with Ziva – wouldn't just be disastrous for him, personally. A failed relationship with Ziva would ruin the team – a team that Tony considered his surrogate family.
Tony understood the team dynamic a bit better than the others, maybe even as well as Gibbs did. The 'team' meant something different to each member. To Tony, it was the family he never had, with Gibbs as the father figure, Ducky as the caring uncle, McGee and Palmer the geeky cousins that were almost closer than brothers, and Abby and Ziva the sisters he would do anything for – even ignore the way his heart ached around one of them.
For Ziva, however, it was different. The team was her sanctuary. The Mossad Officer had a family – albeit, a broken one – but one that she had loved and fit in, at one time. In Tony's opinion it wasn't a good one, but it was her family nonetheless. She hadn't let go of it the way Tony had let go of his. He knew that Ziva had never before experienced the trust and support she got from the team.
Slowly, she was learning how to let her guard down; she was learning how to feel again. Apparently, he thought dryly, she has rediscovered that cruel little muscle that beats in her chest. Yes, Ziva had definitely felt a little flutter in her heart.
And now she was running around like a headless chicken because she didn't know what to do about it.
Tony sighed again and returned to chopping his carrots. Ziva could face down countless gory odds, but when faced with a new crush she began to slowly shut down again, becoming more like the untouchable, cold assassin she had been when he first met her. Tony knew that he was going to have to prove to Ziva that he was trustworthy in this, too.
Sure, she trusted him to have her back in sticky situations; she trusted him with her life. Now he had to convince her to trust him with her heart.
That meant that he needed to help her work through her amorous feelings. He couldn't be anything more than a brother to her, now.
He ignored the way his heart grew heavy at this resolution, instead taking his anger out on the poor, defenseless carrots.
Wearily, he set his knife aside again when a knock sounded at his door. Maybe Gibbs had decided to come to dinner after all – but, no, Gibbs never knocked.
Curious, Tony peered through the peek-hole. A flustered blonde teenager stared right back at him. He scowled to himself when he recognized her – one of Ziva's dancers.
Super.
** * ** * ** * **
Susan stared at the door impatiently.
1, 2, 3, 4…
She banged on the stained wood with her fist, making the keys she clutched in the other hand jingle with her vehemence.
The door opened abruptly.
"Geez, you wanna get the neighbors after me?"
DiNozzo stuck a touseled head out into the hallway. She could just make out the bulky gray Ohio State sweatshirt he was wearing. She immediately noted that the agent was much cuter than the pic on Ziva's phone. Ziva certainly had good taste, looks wise. Snap out of it, Suzie, she told herself. She was not here to ogle Ziva's crush. No – she was here to find a cure for Ziva's explosive moods.
"Come on in," DiNozzo sighed resignedly. He stepped back, opening the door wider. "You're here about Ziva." It wasn't a question.
"How did-"
"You have her keys." He raised an eyebrow. "Does she keep my address in her phone?"
And Ziva said he wasn't that good at his job.
"Tony, I'm Ziva's neighbor, Susan." She stuck out her hand, shaking his firmly. "Ziva's angry at something you didn't do."
Susan watched his reaction carefully. Honestly, she expected him to take offense, to start spluttering some juvenile comment about unfairness. She was pleasantly surprised when he nodded glumly.
"First time she's gotten mad at me for not being a jerk." Gesturing for her to follow, he walked into a neat, well decorated living room and sat at the far end of an expensive looking leather couch. "You think she'll ever talk to me about it?"
"Ah, dude," Susan plopped down next to him. "No. But she needs to – she's getting worse."
"Yeah. " He leaned back into the overstuffed cushions. "She must be really bad."
Susan let out a short bark of laughter. That was an understatement if she ever heard one. By the grimace on Tony's face, she could tell he caught it too.
"Dude, you have no idea. I left when she started snuffling" She filled that one word with as much exasperation as she could muster. Even then it wasn't enough. "She likes you and – heaven help her – she doesn't know what to do with herself."
Again, Susan watched his reaction closely. Again, she was pleasantly surprised.
He sighed despondently, a knowing look on his face.
"Ziva hasn't had a very – er, safe life. She doesn't know how to trust other people with her emotions – she's been burned too many times, especially by people she should have been able to trust." He huffed angrily, running his hands through his hair. "I know I'm not really the best person to be criticizing Ziva for this – hell, I'm probably worse than she is!" He winced at the swear word, but didn't apologize. "I understand her problem – I just don't know what to do about it!"
She leaned back while he spoke. Susan was definitely impressed. And flattered, really, that he would talk to her, practically a stranger, about his problems. As if he had read her thoughts, he continued.
"You're Ziva's friend – you've been helping her as much as she's been helping you." He held up a hand to keep her from interrupting. How had he known about her? "She started acting funny – angry like – a few months ago, and I decided to check it out. You two are good for each other."
Blinking, Susan tried to come up with something intelligent to say. This man was such a far cry from the one that Ziva had complained about time and time again. Actually, he reminded her of her dad – she tried not to get teary eyed at this thought – charming and funny and a complete ham, but smart and loyal and caring, too.
Either Ziva had goofed, or Tony was a very good actor.
Susan fiddled with Ziva's keys, conscious of DiNozzo's scrutinizing gaze. The silence was getting awkward – honestly, what did she think she was doing? She'd just barged in on her neighbor's coworker at eight o'clock on a Friday evening. With all the stories Ziva had told her about this particular coworker, she was lucky he was even home, especially alone.
But then, he hadn't said or done anything yet that actually coincided with Ziva's description of him. Even his apartment was different – neat, organized, tasteful. Nothing she would have expected from the immature skirt chaser that Ziva talked about. How could Ziva have missed this? Excellent actor, then. But why?
"You know, you aren't exactly what I expected." Susan hoped that leading statement would get her some answers.
The man on the other end of the couch snorted with amusement.
"Yeah, I guess not." He paused, as if there was something he wanted to add, but couldn't. He cleared his throat. "Sorry. You want something to drink, or, er…"
"No, I have to get back soon. I left her watching the new Die Hard. She thinks I'm out for pizza." Okay, so what exactly did she think she would accomplish by coming here?
"Oh, right." Tony nodded sharply. "You should call the order in from here, Joseppi's will deliver inside twenty minutes."
** * ** * **
While the girl was ordering pizza, using the menu he kept by the phone, Tony went into the kitchen to check on his pasta. Overcooked. Lovely – he might end up ordering pizza himself. That Hawaiian Pizza she'd ordered (presumably because it was Ziva's favorite) sounded pretty good.
He liked Susan. He hadn't ever met her – really, he hadn't given her a whole lot of thought since he'd 'discovered' that Ziva had been mentoring a recently orphaned young girl. Actually, he hadn't put two and two together until after the girl started talking. Her obvious concern for Ziva coupled with that familiar look that he'd seen far too many times in his career clued him in. Plus, of course, the handy 'neighbor' detail.
The few times Tony had 'overheard' one of Ziva's conversations with the girl, he could tell that Ziva connected with this girl. There was always a fierce protectiveness in her tone. Tony had wondered if Susan wasn't kind of a surrogate sister for her – a stand in for Talia. Not that Ziva would ever think of it that way.
But still.
The 'relationship' he'd observed – well, okay, more like eavesdropped – between the two prompted him to be honest with her, about Ziva anyway. It was apparent by Susan's knowledge of the 'situation' that Ziva trusted her – and that meant a lot.
So he was going to be honest with her – maybe she could help. After all, he didn't mean to sound desperate, but she was the only one left. He'd tried Abby and Gibbs and McGee. Ducky had flat refused to get involved in their "lovers' quarrel". Poor Jimmy had run off before Tony could even ask – a reaction that he completely understood.
So, no one left.
Except Susan. He heard someone moving quietly behind him.
"I don't think I'd eat that, if I were you."
Speak of the devil. She was eyeing his attempt at angel hair pasta over his shoulder.
"Hey it's not that bad. Besides, I was a little distracted!" He tried to defend the gooey glob. Really, though, he agreed with her. Pizza it was.
"Riiight." Abruptly, she turned from the pot of noodles that were still bubbling in a resentful, sluggish manner. "I want to know what you plan to do about Ziva."
Making a face, he combed his fingers through his already untidy hair. He'd actually prefer she attacked his cooking skills again.
"I don't know! He-e, er, shucks" Susan rolled her eyes. "If I'd known discretion was going to cause me this much trouble, I would have been in the first row, hooting and hollering like she obviously expected me to!"
Susan gave him a look and suddenly Tony had this not so good feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"You. Knew."
It wasn't a question.
"Er…"
"Did you go?"
Ziva had definitely been teaching this girl some tricks. She was as scary as an Angry Abby, which was almost as scary as Angy Ziva. Not quite as scary as Angy Gibbs – but then what was?
"Um, maybe." She glared. "Okay, yes, I went! I don't like it when they keep secrets. I thought maybe she was into – erm." He had been about to say another operation, like the one Jenny had him doing, but remembered who he was talking to. "I thought she might need help with something. Turns out she didn't." He sighed a little. Back to the backfired caring bit. "She worked so hard to keep me from finding out."
Susan let out a startled laugh. Tony could practically see her thoughts - Ziva, Ziva, Ziva. How do you make these messes?
At least she wasn't blaming him.
"So you didn't say anything."
"Lady, I didn't even take an incriminating photo!" It had been tempting, but he hadn't. It would have been awful funny to use them as the teams' screen savers. He wasn't actually that good with computers, but Abby knew everyone's passwords by heart.
"Hmmm." Susan's eyes slid halfway shut in thought. She was scheming… he could sense it. "I do."
Tony blinked.
"You do what?"
"Have an incriminating photo." She paused a minute. "And Ziva's costume."
Tony grinned.
If Ziva wanted to be angry at him for not being a jerk, fine!
He'd show her jerkiness. He happened to be King of Jerks.
Susan smiled sweetly.
"I can get them to you before Monday." She straightened from where she'd been leaning against the kitchen counter. "But, for now, I should get back to Ziva."
"You think she'll suspect?" Susan rolled her eyes.
"She was snuffling over a Die Hard film when I left. I doubt she even really noticed I was gone."
"Ah." Good point. He reminded himself that Ziva was probably a lot worse at home than she let show at work. Well, come Monday, he'd fix this all up.
After saying good bye to Susan, and ordering his own pizza (Susan had opted to pick hers up on her way back, so it wouldn't get cold) Tony turned his mind to the Ziva problem.
What should he do with such a lovely photo?
The screen saver was a good idea, but one he'd used before.
He needed something over the top. Something that he might possibly have spent a whole week planning… waiting for her to let her guard down.
Absent mindedly, he took a large bite of his pizza.
He was still scheming when he crawled into bed hours later.
Whatever he came up with was gonna be good.
** * ** * ** * **
A/N: Okay, really, really sorry I haven't posted anything in a while...and also that this will have one more chapter (even though I promised there would only be three). I've been suffering from a rather persistent case of writer's block, so I hope this chapter (and the next, soon to be posted, I promise) doesn't seem to forced. Thank you for reading (and for your patience) and please, please review (will provide much needed motivation for me, just like all your other great reviews).