Valentine's Day fell on a Friday in 2014, and like so many of the couple population, Tony had plans to spend the weekend with his love. He had even managed to put in for a half day on the Friday, to make it even more special, and to beat the traffic heading out of the city. Then Emerson's team narrowly escaped death, and team Gibbs' went on standby. Then they got the bat signal. A Marine had managed to get themselves killed, not far from the quaint little Virginia town, where Tony had intended to take her.
So, he stood in front of the window, looking out onto the Navy Yard. His phone was pressed to his ear, the call being patched through. His gut twisted.
"Hi Tony," she said on the third ring. Her voice was warm, and buoyant. He wondered if her perky little ponytail had bounced as she grabbed the phone.
She had been in such a good place lately. They'd been in such a good place lately. They were so excited for their weekend away.
"Have you packed yet?" he asked, wincing as he said the words. He suspected she had, she always did pack a good go-bag.
A sigh slipped from Ziva's mouth, and she made no effort to catch it.
"No," she said, a chill seeping through her voice. "Do you have a case?"
"Yeah, an overnighter," he said, as he watched turned around, and leant on the wall between the window and the elevator. He watched as pint-sized Ellie, paced the space between the desks, having a very tense conversation with Mr. Ellie. "Emerson's team was supposed to be on duty this weekend, but-"
"I heard about Diaz taking a bullet," she interrupted. He wondered how, Abby maybe, but he did not question it.
"Can we raincheck?" he asked.
"We do not exactly have a choice in the matter," she said. "Besides, this will work out better, I would like to finish my paper."
When he had stopped by the previous evening, with takeout, he had found her pacing the living room of her apartment. Her laptop, was open, and every spare inch of table, was blanketed in paper. Despite being an older student, she had quickly succumb to the student curse, of both procrastination, and perfectionism in equal parts. The essay she had written was arguably much better than anything he'd ever turned in, and yet she was still stressed about it.
"You've beaten that paper half to death," he declared. "It's a great essay."
"It has been a very long time since I have written anything except a case report," she said, repeating the same concerns she had the night before, as he read over the paper in question, while stuffing chinese food in his mouth. "And English is not my first language."
This was a strange version of Ziva. He was so used to her brazen confidence. Her ability to walk into any situation guns blazing. He knew this part of her, had always existed, but was locked away. Yet for him, she unlocked it, and showed her vulnerability. The world they had made for themselves, was one built on trust.
"I'm telling you, you'll get an A," he declared. "No, an A plus."
She certainly had not needed her Introduction to Psychology class, to teach her about obedience to authority. She had already lived a thousand lives, and knew far too much about the horrors of the world. However, she had made a fairly convincing argument about the cultural context to Milgram's experiments.
She let out a throaty chuckle.
"You are biased," she said. "Still, I will make use of this extra time."
He nodded to himself. Maybe he'd get off easy. Maybe, he'd brag to McLoverboy and Probie 2.0 that his partner had been the most understanding of the bunch, and she didn't even have a security clearance anymore.
"So, you're not disappointed?" he asked.
He thought of that cozy little inn, where they had booked the little getaway. Away from the difficult days. Away from the day-to-day stress. They had been like ships in the night, in recent weeks; between his caseload, her college classes, and him taking on McGee's paperwork, so he could visit Delilah. They were going to have some quality time, just for them, they'd decided.
"I am," she said. And, with that his heart broke in half. "But it will pass. Perhaps, it is like you said, we are not Valentine's Day people."
So much for getting off easy, he thought.
"I only said that, because I didn't have your present yet," he said.
She did another almost laugh. It sounded so sweet, as it rang in his ears.
"Well now, you have two extra days to get me a present," she said. "The flowers get cheaper tomorrow, yes?"
Once, this case was over, he decided, he would turn up to her apartment with the best bunch of flowers in the world. He didn't care how much it cost.
"I'll make it up to you," he said. "Seriously, whatever you want?"
He'd try and get her the moon, if she asked. She deserved the damn moon. No, the whole universe.
"There is nothing to make up for," she said, the warmth slipping back into her voice. Maybe, she was shedding the disappointment, like autumn leaves. "We will have many more Valentine's Day, we will have many more weekends away. This is just one day."
She'd hitched her horse, to his beaten up old-wagon, with much thought. Sure it took them a long time, to actually get together, but not it was an all-in situation. How easily, and fully she had committed to him. It scared him, just a little bit, how much faith she had in him. How much she believed him.
"I know," he said. "It still sucks."
"Yes, it does," she admitted, he could picture her face etched with a deep frown.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked.
"Like I said, I am disappointed, but it will pass," she repeated, agitation lacing through her voice.
"It's just," he said, before pausing. Maybe, he shouldn't run his mouth.
"It is just, what?" she asked.
He sucked in a deep breath, then let the thought he was holding in out into the world. On its own.
"Ray left you in a restaurant for three hours," he began, listing a past she was far too familiar with, "And you said, that your Dad used to leave you hanging, all the time. I don't want to be that guy, Ziva."
His thought was out into the world, it stood wobbling, like a newborn foal.
On the other end, Ziva gulped.
"You are not Ray," she said, her voice softer much than it had been before. "And, you are definitely not my father. I do not expect you to make up for their sins."
A part of him wanted too. He wanted to be the guy who was always there. He didn't want, her life to become a rerun of her mother's. He didn't want to be his Dad, leaving a wake of disappointment. Yet, the apple didn't seem to fall too far from the tree.
"I know," he said shakily. Still he felt like he should. He felt like he had to give her the happy ending she deserved, because so many people had tried to take it away from her.
"I hope so," she whispered.
"You know, I've made these kinda phone calls, probably a hundred times, to dozens of women," he begun. He could picture her rolling her eyes, at talk of his previous playboy life.
"I have made these calls a few times too," she declared. Even though her time as agent, already seemed like a lifetime ago. To both of them.
"But, it never really mattered then," he continued. "I mean it sucked, but my priority was always work. I always put work first."
Two cups. Could he fill them both?
Or, would he have to chose one over the other, like he always had.
Maybe, for once he would chose the family cup.
"I know," she whispered. "I am not going to ask you to chose, Tony. You love your job, you are good at your job. You can have both."
He wasn't convinced.
"I know," his voice not more than a sigh. "It just kinda sucks today."
She had been talking about her mother a lot in recent weeks, making him wonder if it came up in therapy. She always talked about her mother, through food, and she had been cooking more of late, perhaps out of procrastination. Her apartment seemed to always smell of roast eggplant, and have thick winter stew in the slow cooker. She had told him, how her mother used to beg Eli to chose his family over his job. How the drama of it all had made Rivka David bitter, and sour like the lemons she liked to put in her tea. Ziva had told him, how once with Ray, she had said something, that had sounded exactly like something her mother had said once. How that had scared her.
I thought about it for weeks after, she had said as they ate her mother's recipe for kugel, I told myself, I would not become like her. I would not just wait for a man. Yet, I did not learn my lesson, I still waited for him.
He didn't want their relationship to be torn apart by his job. Sequels were almost never better than the originals. She was already once burnt, twice shy.
All she would have to do, is ask, and he'd hand in his badge. It would hurt. It would physically hurt, but he would. He would do it for her. She knew that, he hadn't told her, but she knew it deep down.
For now, he would attempt to balance two cups. Work and family. One might spill over, while the other ran empty for a bit, but it would all equalise in the end.
"Somebody is hurting," she whispered. "And, you will make it a little bit better for them."
Someone was hurting, and he was there to clean up the mess. The team would solve the case, but they would see humanity at its worst. What horrible things humans could do to each other.
Yet, she still believed that he helped. How easy it was to romanticize the job, when she had laid down her guns.
He watched as Ellie hung up her phone call, and let out a long heavy sigh. Things had definitely not gone well. McGee had finished his phone call, and was packing his stuff. Gibbs, was standing by the elevator, wearing his fiercest glare. It pierced right through him.
"Bossman, is giving me the death stare," Tony said, as he adjusted the backpack on his other shoulder. It felt heavier than normal. "I gotta go."
"I am surprised, he even let you talk this long," she muttered.
Ziva always was Gibbs' favourite. If this was any other personal call, he'd have been head slapped into the elevator by now. Yet, Tony could not imagine making this kind of call with anyone else.
It was her. It would always be her. It was only ever her.
"So, am I," he declared, as a smile crossed his face. "I love you. I'll call you before we hit the hay."
Realistically, it would probably be an all-nighter kind of case. If he was lucky, he might be able to take a nap before dawn, but he hoped to steal a few minutes to talk to her before nine. To say goodnight.
"I love you, too," she replied. "I would like that. One more thing."
McGee and Ellie were at the elevator, backpacks hanging off their shoulders, and cellphones pressed to their ears, already in a case mode. Gibbs had his fingers out beckoning him, and a manila folder pressed under his arm. Tony could feel the head slap brewing, from ten feet away.
"Yes," he said, not willing to hang up just yet. Just a few moments longer.
"I expect a really good present," she said, before erupting into a laugh, to tell him she was joking.
He pictured her, in her apartment maybe, the winter sun streaming through the windows. Her papers over her dining table. Her curls bouncing, as she let out a full belly laugh. He loved to see her laugh. He loved watching the joy flow through her.
He laughed too. A full belly laugh. Everything would be okay. It sucked a little just now, but everything would be okay, in the end.
"You'll love it," he said. "I promise."
A/N: I don't own a thing.
This seems to have developed from a series of one-shots gathered together, into something with a plotline. The plot line is basically, these two crazy kids, stumbling through their first year, and talking. Oh so much talking. Chapters will be slightly more connected moving forward.
Thanks for reading and reviewing. Especially guest reviews. Hi Fred, and Sue! Hi other Guest(s)!