They did not usually stay in his apartment. Her apartment was marginally closer to both of their jobs, and if he had to admit it, her apartment is nicer. Cosier. Her apartment felt like home.
His apartment is closer to the hospital. The hospital, where Delilah lay with a piece of shrapnel embedded in her spine. She would never walk again. She faced a lifetime of complications. She was in immeasurable pain. Yet, for the brief moment they had seen her, when they had stopped in to talk to McGee, she seemed in good spirits. Even flashing them a smile, and a shaky wave from behind the window in the ICU.
She'll be okay, they'd both said to each other, as they drove home. She'll be okay.
"We should sleep," Ziva whispered, as they lay facing each other. She ran her hand down his bare chest. "We both have to get up early."
"Can't," he replied, as he rested his hand on her hip. Running his finger along, an old scar, from a lifetime ago.
What had made such a mark, he wondered. A bullet graze, maybe. Or, Saleem's dirty knife. Possibly from that explosion in Morocco. She had cheated death so many times.
"We should try," she said. All they could do was try.
"Do you think, they'll be okay?" he finally asked, after a few minutes of quiet. She looked at him for a second, trying to gauge what he was saying.
"Tim said, Delilah is adjusting," Ziva uttered delicately. She did not know the McGirlfriend well, and wondered honestly if Delilah had even reacted to the trauma yet. A long road awaited her. "But these things are not in a straight line."
One step forward, two steps back.
"I know," he said, moving his hand up to her face. "She's strong."
Both he and McGee had chosen strong women. Such strong amazing women. So many conversations now, were spent gushing about their brilliant girlfriends, while they tackled traffic jams or stakeout. She's just so amazing, McGee had said, just a few days ago.
"Very," came Ziva's reply.
"They'll make it," he whispered. He was willing it into the universe. A hope. A prayer. They had to make it. "They will make it."
"He was too afraid to go into her room," Ziva said, with a sigh.
"He was in shock," Tony uttered. "He just needed some time. He's there now. Isn't that what matters?"
The question hung in the air. Unanswered.
"Her whole life has changed," Ziva continued. "Everything has changed for her. She will have to relearn so much."
Abby being Abby, had already researched everything. Delilah faced weeks, if not months, in a rehab facility, and would have to master so many new skills; dressing herself, navigating the world from a chair, something called waste management. A whole life would need to be rebuilt.
"He won't leave her," Tony whispered, nodding slightly. He was sure of it. "McGee is a better man than that."
"I never said he'd leave her," Ziva uttered. "I know he is a good man."
"No," Tony said, with a heavy sigh, "but you implied it."
"They have only been together a few months," Ziva continued. "Things are still so tentative."
"They've been together since May," Tony interrupted. "Just like us."
Things weren't tentative between them, he thought. Were they?
"But they are not like us," Ziva said softly.
No, they were normal, he thought. Well, as normal as two people with their security clearances could be. They were smart. They were less traumatised by the horrors of the world. Slightly, less neurotic.
"No," Tony said, with a heaving breath. "They were better at getting it together. They didn't have our timing issue."
They didn't have eight years of friendship, and bad times, to back it up. This was the first storm, they would have to weather, and it was a big one. Perhaps the biggest, they would ever face.
"This is a big change," Ziva whispered. "For both of them."
This is a big change, he'd told her in the car when they were driving to Gibbs' house that previous summer. They were set to get their badges back. He already knew Ziva would refuse hers. He knew it was for the best. Her heart wasn't in it anymore. Still a part of him ached for things to go back to normal, for the two of them to partners again. For the two of them to be chasing bad guys, and saving the world.
This is a big change, he said as the sped through late afternoon traffic for both of us.
"What are you saying?" he asked. His stomach twisted. Anxiety pulsed through him. Would he like what came next?
"I am saying, some couples do not survive big changes," Ziva said bluntly. "Especially something so traumatic."
"They're not just any couple," Tony said. "They work. They get each other. They argue in binary for god's sake."
We're not just any couple, he was try to say. We work. We get each other. We quote books that get made into movies at each other.
"Her whole life has changed," Ziva continued. "She will measure her life, in before and after this event."
He knew this. He knew Ziva had events, plural, that she measured her life in. Before her sister died. Before that summer in Somalia. Before she became a fully fledged orphan, and jumped on the revenge train, with Ilan Bodnar her only target.
"She will not be the same," Ziva said, with a sigh. "Maybe, she will make choices about the people in her life."
"Are you saying, maybe she'll let him go?" Tony asked, wondering if Ziva was really talking about Delilah. "You think she'd tell him to go find someone else."
"Maybe," Ziva whispered. "If she thinks he would be happy."
"Well, she's out of luck," he said. "Because old McGPS is like one of those homing pigeons, he'll find his way back. He loves her you know. He told me."
I love her, McGee had said, as they stopped to get food. Ordering extra, because Ellie had described herself as starving. I love her so much. It hurts sometimes, that's how much I love her. Tony had simply nodded in agreement.
"I know," Ziva said, swallowing thickly. "I also know, he is a good man."
You are a good man Tony, how many times had she said that to him. Even months down the line he was no closer to fully believing it.
"The best," Tony said, as he reached over and tugged Ziva closer to him.
"Do you think they will make it?" Ziva asked, looking up at him. Hadn't that been his question.
"I think they'll try," he said. She nodded in agreement. "They'll try really damn hard."
"I hope so," she uttered. "I really do."
He leaned ever closer. Flicking a curl from her face. He knew where this came from. The belief that the worst would happen. One can not undo a lifetime of hurt. But a part of him, still tried. Still he tried, to rewrite the script she had in her head. She would get her happy ending.
"I think we'll make it, too," he said softly.
"I was not talking about us," she whispered. Not consciously anyway.
"Don't try and tell me, it didn't cross your mind about what would happen, if it was you," he whispered. Trying to swallow a bitterness that he now tasted on his tongue. "Don't try and tell me, that you weren't talking about yourself, when you were talking about how relationships change, and how maybe she'll set him free."
"I was talking about them," Ziva uttered, voice firmer. "Not everything is about us."
"I know," he whispered. "But I have to know, what would you do?"
"I do not know," she said, blowing out a big breath. "I will admit, that if something like that had happened last year, I would have pushed you or anyone else away."
"You did," he uttered.
"I do not recall being embedded with shrapnel in the last year," she said tartly. "Or anything remotely similar."
"Your Dad died," he whispered. "You pushed people away."
She wanted to tell him, that becoming an orphan, and losing use of one's legs, were not on the same level of catastrophic events. Everybody, because an orphan eventually, it was the cycle of life. What happened to Delilah was unforeseen.
"I know," she said with a heavy sigh. "But, as I was trying to say, things are different now, yes?"
She had turned her whole life upside down, and was scrambling to find which pieces still fit together. She was trying to build a better life. Rome wasn't built in a day, she told herself. Yet, still the road felt long. Still the obstacles got in her way. Still, she wondered how she would face them.
"Yeah," he said.
"We were not even together then," she continued. A post elevator us, he had called them, as he tried to find out who her Schmeil was.
"No," he said. "But we were evolving."
They had been so close, in those months between the explosion at the Navy Yard, and her father's death. They had been so damn close.
"Yes," she said, with a half smile, that quickly faded, as the dark thoughts came. "I do not want you to ever feel duty bound to me. If something like that were to happen to me, I would want staying, to be a choice."
Loving her was not a choice. She enchanted him, with her belief in making things better, with her mixed up words, and her desire to build a better future. Staying, that was a choice he made. Most days it was easy. Some days not so much. Even on the bad days, he was glad he made the choice.
"I would," he whispered, flashing her his thousand watt smile. "I would stay."
"I know," she said, holding his gaze.
A darkness washed over him, and he looked away.
"I mean chances are that you'd end up having to make that choice." he said, still looking away. "I'm the one with the dangerous job."
How many times, had he slipped money into a collection pot, for a cop buddy, who suddenly had to face the rest of his life from a wheelchair, or missing a limb.
How many times, had he put on his best black suit to attend another funeral, watching as the widow sobbed.
How many times, had it almost been them. Oh so many times, had it almost been them.
"Delilah was not on the job, when she got hurt," Ziva soothed. She was being celebrated for her job. "She was not even the target."
Collateral damage. They had both seen too much of that.
"If I got hurt, would you stay?" he asked. His lips quivering. So scared of her answer. So worried that a 'no' would slip from her lips.
"Of course," Ziva whispered, as she tugged under his chin, asking him to look at her. "There is no question."
It is us versus the world, she had said him a dozen times. Yes, always came his reply.
"Out of duty," he asked, still unable to fully meet her gaze. "Or love."
"Love," she said. "Always, out of love."
And, that seemed to be enough. She watched as his eyelids slowly drooped, and after a few moments of quiet, sleep finally overtook him. Soon enough, she let herself fall into slumber.
A/N: I don't own a thing.
I also haven't watched an episode past 11x02, so if the facts are a little off, regarding Delilah getting hurt, I apologize.
Also, the direction the muse seems to be taking this in, is sort of an exploration of them in their first year together. Some happy moments, but mostly angsty-ish because it's these two. That means it will (very) loosely be following canon of S11. If that not your jam, feel free to jump off the bus.
Thanks, so much for all the lovely reviews and love.