Chapter 38: To Be Free

Two Months Later

DiNozzo enters the bar with his shoulders down and head low. As the clouds of cigarette smoke floats in his direction, he inhales sharply, yearning to taste it in his mouth.

The bartender winks her welcome, but even her flirtatious body language goes unnoticed to the troubled Italian. Frowning, she turns professional and takes his drink order.

Three empty short, but thick drinking glasses stand proudly next to one another as their capturer clings on to another one of their replicas.

The strong taste of the darkened liquor goes officially unnoticed as he hungrily catches the last droplets from the glass.

The attractive bartender wonders about his next order even though the voice in her head tells her that he has had enough for one night.

Open space and sawdust lingers and clings. The Marine sits on top a wooden bar stool inside the emptiness of his unfinished basement. His elbows balance on the tops of his knees as his forearms balance his weight on either side of the bottle of Bourbon and mason jar, which happens to be filled to the rim.

The bottle stands half-proudly as it sits half-empty. The glass, its partner, stands tall and completely proud in preparation for what inevitably will occur.

Professionally the case had closed; had gone away, hopefully to never again return. A wish so full of a hope, but a remaining voice that begged to be heard as it spoke nothing, but the truth.

The murders of her husband and father would never truly disappear due to the lack of evidence that existed. The only thing she and her former co-partners had in their favor had been Lior's cell phone that he thought to leave behind.

A loud knock travels straight through the open door of the basement. Gibbs groggily groans before putting his two feet on the cement floor and getting off the stool.

As he travels the steps he thinks who his uninvited, yet expected visitor could be. The very thought makes his head begin to throb as his stomach starts to twist in knots and turn like a rollercoaster.

Within no time he is standing as tall as he can muster behind his front door. Clearing his throat, he focuses sternly straight ahead as if his front door is the protective barrier to the terrible world on the outside.

As he inhales, his hand twists the doorknob and the former Mossad is made visible.

At the sight of her, he feels the sudden rush to inhale again, so he does.

"Ziva."

"Gibbs."

Their names collide as their eyes lock on to one another. The frigid winter air from outside rushes past her tense shoulders and mixes in with the usual chill of his home.

"I apologize." She speaks first; softly. "Yet, I still would like to speak with you if you will…allow me some of your time?"

He stands and analyzes the question she has asked him, while she tries to keep her knees from knocking together from the whipping wind.

"Gotta come inside, first." He says easily. "Cold outside."

"Yes, it is." She offers a thin-lipped smile before stepping onto his door mat.

He stays in place as she wipes the bottom of her boots on his front door mat, then looks at her.

"I'd like to shut this door." He raises his already point-ish eyebrows.

Taking a few steps, she clears his path and watches as he shuts the door, leaving it unlocked as usual.

"Jacket." He points to her padded shoulder.

She is cautious, so she stands tall and reserved. She squints; trying to read him.

"If you're cold, I could start a fire."

"That isn't necessary." She says quickly. "I will keep my jacket on."

He shrugs, then pushes past her. "Have a seat." He motions towards his living room couch. "Be with you in a minute."

She opens her mouth to call out to him, but instead changes her mind as she soaks in the dense atmosphere of what he calls his living room. The damp and darkness soon disappears though as she emerges from the kitchen with a lit candle and few pieces of dried wood under one of his arms.

"In the mood for a fire." He mutters more to himself than her as he drops the wood onto floor before the darkened mouth of his fireplace. "Power's out…besides warmth, it'll sure as a good source of light."

She nods, but never finds the nerve to find a seat.

"This'll only take a minute." He tries to be casual, but even he senses how funny it sounds. "Have a seat?" He now decides to ask instead of being direct as he had been moments before.

"Perhaps it is best if I stand…"

They both absorb the uncertainty, but neither says anything about it.

"What'd you want to talk about?"

"Ah, yes." Her mind screams at her for being in a bit of a delay. "What you did for Tony and myself…your team, I think, will forever go unforgotten." She begins to move carefully, but his back still faces her as he works at the task at hand. "Without your determination to find some sort of evidence…we would never be freed…of all of this."

He drags the tip of the long match and sparks fly as it bursts into flames. Leaning forward, he places the blazing flame under the three logs, then stands and dusts off his hands.

"Your statement isn't entirely true." He drags his eyes from the fireplace to stare into her eyes. "Things could take a turn for the worst…things could come back in the end." He pauses. "Better hope nothing happens to the Director…she agreed to what was agreed to because it had been personal as well as professional." He shrugs casually. "…but I'm sure you already knew that…same goes for DiNozzo."

"I thought to visit because I felt you needed a 'Thank You'." Her forehead creases; a moment of helplessness flashes before her eyes. "Please…take it."

"How are you to know what I need?" He questions. "…and why is it that you felt this?" He shakes his head in shame at the gruffness in his tone. "Nevermind." He mutters. "How is DiNozzo?"

"It has been a couple of weeks since I have last seen him." She shrugs; worriedly. "At times I feel terrible for not being near, but…transitions have appeared in my life."

"Good?" His eyebrows raises.

"Hard to tell at this point." She looks to her feet, then to the fire. "It caught quickly."

"I guess I've still got it." He tries for a lighthearted joke, but it is not enough to get a pleasant rise out of her.

She offers him another thin-lipped smile.

He places his hands on his hips and looks around the empty living room.

"Are you open for coffee?" He asks softly.

"Normally, I would take an offer of tea, but-"

"I've got a coupla bags." He catches the surprise in her eyes. "…Du…they belong to a friend." He hopes his cover worked, but the look in her eyes tells him that she knows. "He hasn't been around for some time… but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I shared one of his simple pleasures."

"I do not think so either." The corners of her mouth perk slightly as she gives him a slight nod. "I would love a cup."

"Have a seat." He says for the third time, this time the gruff directness and the uncertainty is replaced with a taste of casualness. "Be back in a few."

Making it a habit to walk is a bright decision, but making it a habit to walk while drunk is not. The sweet-talking Italian walks in a zig-zag fashion along the sidewalk. Passerby's find amusement in his behavior so they refuse to lend him a much needed helping hand. As he turns the corner, he stumbles from the sidewalk and nearly ends up flying into the middle of on-coming traffic.

"It is something nice to remember." She says while taking the steaming cup of tea from his hand.

He stays quiet as he finds a seat opposite from his couch. He brings his mug to his lips and tastes the strong coffee.

Her attention falls onto his roaring fire. As her eyes glisten from the reflection of flames in her eyes, he clears his throat gently.

"What is?" He questions, then shrugs. "…what is 'something' nice to remember?"

"Simple pleasures." She says, but does not break her gaze with the blaze of reds, oranges, and yellows.

"A cup of tea can do all of that?"

"Sometimes…" She inhales. "…sometimes…"

"Which…simple pleasures?" His eyebrows raise slightly.

"That is something I wish not to discuss…not right now." She says meekly. "I hope you understand."

"At the end of the day…at the end of it all…I do." He pauses momentarily. "…do you?"

"Sometimes." She offers more quickly than she should have. "…sometimes I find it hard to accept all that has happened."

He nods slightly while turning his neck. "Use your strength…" He turns to find her staring at him. "…to accept it, all of it." He pauses. "It's easier to accept rather than it is to approve…and there's not a damn thing out there that should make you approve."

Ziva focuses on her cup of tea. Her mind holding on to his words as a smirk plays on her lips.

"That feels like a rule."

He hangs his head, blushing a bit. "Nah…nowhere near one." He waits for her to speak, but finds that the silence lingers. Lifting his head, he finds her looking at him with a raised eyebrow; looking questionable. "It's advice."

"As what, Gibbs…if you do not mind me asking?" Her voice slightly uneven.

His eyes glisten from the warmth and glow of the fire. His mouth opening slightly to speak, but closing as soon as he catches the openness within her eyes.

"As someone who cares…" His throat tightens as he sets his coffee mug on top of his coffee table. "…if that's something you'll allow…"

She looks at him as if she were a deer caught in a pair of headlights. Her expression is so unlike her usual types, but it suits her because of all that she worries about.

"I know…I know…" He begins; already finding it hard to be calm. "…I haven't any right to apologize, and not just because I've repeatedly stated it's a sign of weakness, but because it's long over-due." He reaches for his coffee mug, but chooses to push it further away. "You see, I…"

"Gibbs, please."

"No, Ziva, you've…gotta listen to me. You've got to listen to me now. I don't want to…to waste anymore time!" He leans a bit back and shakes his head slightly to center himself. "Putting a bullet through any part of the team would have hurt much less than what I put them through. I've caused so much damage to their lives professionally and personally. I've treated them all unfairly; boosted the others ego while deflating the others, constantly." The moisture in his eyes are no longer from the heat of the fire or the glow. "Putting a bullet through any part of you would have hurt much less than what I put…you through." He pauses as he feels a tightness from within his chest. "Seeing your face again should have been enough for me to give you a better chance…any kind of chance, but it didn't." He sighs slowly and quietly. "Just knowing the fact that after placing you in the hands of your father you survived his torment…you survived…it should have been enough, it should have made me react differently."

"We have spoken of this before, Gibbs." She puts her head to the side, her own eyes glistening. "We have found a common ground…we both were angry at one another and unsure of how to go about interacting with one another…" She nods slowly. "…we have spoken on how you understood from the moment it was happening until it fully happened…and it was you who tried to be there for me…and it had been me who refused to take your sincerity and care seriously." She shrugs helplessly. "I…I acted childishly."

He opens his mouth, but chooses not to speak as he watches a tear roll down her cheeks. "Help me, Ziva." He tries to swallow the thickness in his throat. "…help me help you…my team…" He cringes momentarily. "…please…help me."

Tearing her eyes from his strong gaze, she blinks as the brightness of the fire hits her face. In doing so, more tears fall from her eyes and begin their journey down her warm cheeks.

Gibbs sits there unsure of what her reaction will be now that he has been painfully honest with her for the first time ever.

"I am surprised at you, Gibbs." She cuts herself off quickly as she feels her throat tighten. "It is not like you to ask for someone's help."

He listens intently because her tone is strained with pain rather than with anger.

"…especially mine." She uses one hand to wipe at her eyes.

"…Ziva?" He waits quietly and as patiently as he can for her to answer him.

"Gibbs…" She turns her head and faces him once again. "…do you know what it feels like to be free?"

He leans back slightly, then takes a deep breath.

"…in my dreams…" He gives her a small smirk, but his sadness can not go unread. "…imagine that."

She smiles sadly; a hint of surprise twinkles in her eyes as her ears ring with his choice of answers.

"I have…lately…" Her eyebrows raise for a second.

After a beat, he nods his head knowingly. "Tell me about it, Ziva."

"…simple pleasures…" She says softly. "…a good book…a box of chocolates…sunshine…" She watches as his eyes slip shut. "…a light breeze…a friendly greeting…a photograph."

Opening his eyes, he tries to blink back tears. "…the perfect opportunity…huh?" He smiles warmly at her knowing eyes. "Where ya goin'?"

"I have not decided yet." She shrugs with a hopeful look on her face. "Perhaps wherever the wind takes me…"

"I'm jealous." He states softly.

"Of me?"

"The wind." He hangs his head once again, but soon raises it again. "Tell me about it, Ziva…sometimes…" With wet eyes and a beaming smile, he locks eyes with her. "…I'd love a good story."