A/N: This one is a dark one folks. Be careful. Stay safe.
It was the unlocking of the door that woke Ziva up. She had always been a light sleeper, even before her father, put a gun in her hands. She took the gun from her bedside table, surprised at first by the cold metal. It had been months since she had held a gun. She carefully got out of bed, using old ninja tricks, so as not to make a sound.
The only other person who had a key to her apartment, was Tony. He had said he was going to sleep at his place, when they had touched base during a mid-afternoon phone call. He had sounded out of sorts in that phone call, but she had put that down to the difficult case they were working on.
"Ziva it's me," a familiar voice called into the apartment. Tony. Relief washed over her. She slid the gun, she still had back into the drawer of her bedside table. She still had a licence for firearms, but it had felt so weird to be holding it. "Didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."
She walked toward the lounge, sensing that all was not right, with her partner. She moved quickly, bare feet padding on the soft carpet. She found him sitting on her couch, in the dark, and still in his light coat. Spring had arrived, and she marvelled at the cherry blossoms that blanketed the city, but the nights were still cool. Tonight felt colder than recent nights.
"I thought you were staying at your place tonight," Ziva said, as she switched on the lamp. Warm orange light filled the room, for just a second, before the bulb blew. She wondered if that was an omen.
He looked exhausted. Dark rings around his eyes. His shoulders slumped. She knew enough, to know that today had been a bad day.
"I didn't want to go back to an empty apartment," he said, his throat dry. "Not tonight."
He hadn't wanted to be alone, with only a bottle of scotch to comfort him. If this was a year ago, he would have done that, but things were different now. Things had changed. He had planned to simply slip into the apartment, and sleep on the couch. Knowing, she was close, would have been enough of a comfort.
"Okay," she said, softly. Not pushing further. Maybe, they could wait until it was light outside before letting the darkness in. "Let's go to bed. It is cold."
"I don't think I can sleep," he said. "I'll just stay here. Go back to bed. I'll be quiet."
Like hell, she was leaving him, to sit in the dark, and stew in heavy thoughts.
"What has happened?" she asked. She walked across the room, and sat next to him on the couch. A comforting hand resting on his thigh.
Fear laced her voice. She knew enough to know, that no-one she knew was hurt, or worse. Otherwise, there would have been a frantic phone call, from Abby, or maybe Ducky. Still, she could not shake the feeling, that another family or two, had received bad news that night.
"Just another bad day in the office," he said with a sigh.
She wished bad days in the office, meant lost monopoly money, or poor sales. Not death and destruction.
"You can tell me," she offered as she squeezed his hand. "It is good to talk about these things."
"No," he said. "This isn't your life anymore. I won't drag you back."
She had laid down her guns, hoping to forge a life of peace. He couldn't drag her back into the underworld.
"No, it is not my life anymore," she echoed, her voice sterner than she intended it to be. "But it is yours, and you are upset. We should talk about things that make us upset."
"I'm not sure I want to talk about it, right now," he said. "Not right now."
There was a promise in that not right now, it meant that there would be a time, where he talked. Not like before, where he bottled it all up.
"Okay," she said softly. Not wanting to push it. "But tell me, you will talk to someone. Soon."
She placed that emphasis on soon. She knew how the suffering could manifest.
"Already put in a request for an appointment with Manhands," he said, as she wrapped her arms around him. Pressing his face to her chest. He sunk into her embrace. "I won't just run through the motions this time. I'll actually talk."
Both of them knew how to pass a Psych Eval, with Dr. Braco. Both of them knew exactly what to say. Both of them knew, that while it put the bandaid over the bullet hole, it did not stop the pain.
"Good," she breathed.
"I think I might need more than the one session," he admitted. "This one really shook me up. It was even that bad, I mean we've had worse cases, but I know this one is going to stick with me for a while. Maybe, I'm just getting to old for this."
God, she was proud of him for admitting that. How many times, had they both pretended that the horrors of the world, had not shaken them to the core.
"Okay," she whispered. "You should take as many as you need."
"People died today," he said. She suspected as much, by his glum face.
She swallowed thickly. The mid afternoon conversation, had mentioned bits and pieces of the case they were working on. A Marine with a gang past found dead in a sketchy area. All leads pointing to his former gang. The young man had not fully escaped his past, despite his best efforts. They were working with the Metro Gang Unit.
"A kid died today," he said softly. "He must have been seventeen, just caught up in the wrong crowd. Had his whole life ahead of him. He could have gotten out. I had to make that call, I had to order his death. He was shaking a gun around, but he didn't know what he was doing."
She had made that call before. She knew the hell he was going through. She knew that the teenagers face would haunt Tony for a long time.
"You cannot beat yourself up, over this," she said, knowing this would eat him up anyway. "You had no control over his choices."
She too had watched life slip out of young people, who had been caught up in the wrong crowd. HAMAS, and other terror organisations, often recruited children to do their dirty work. It still haunted her that boy, who had detonated the bomb that killed her sister at the tender age of sixteen, was only fifteen himself.
"I know," he said, sounding so defeated. "Doesn't mean I won't."
She knew that. Guilt was quicksand, that they so often found themselves caught in. Hopefully, she could help him pull himself out, before it swallowed him up.
"It is not your fault," she assured him.
"That kid wasn't the only casualty," he said. "Metro lost an officer. One of their finest."
She swallowed thickly. Tony went one of two ways, with officers from Metro P.D. Like Gibbs, he had no patience for the incompetent ones, and worked on making their life hell. However, if the officer was like him, young-ish and spouting pop-culture references, he usually found himself a fast friend. It seemed he had found himself another friend.
"A guy named McNulty," he said. "Just like on The Wire."
She pulled a blank on the reference, but nodded along.
"He had a kid," Tony said. "A boy, he's about five. His name was Lucas or something. McNulty was showing me all these videos, when we were waiting to talk to a witness. Kid's hella cute."
Ziva frowned. Tony had been all about children lately. It had taken him longer than most, to realise how much he wanted them.
"It's the kids birthday in a couple of weeks, McNulty and his wife had split, and he bouncing off all these ideas about what to get the kid," Tony continued. "I think he was trying to make up for the separation somehow."
Ziva felt her own eyes prick with tears. There was so much suffering in the world. Too much hurt.
"That kid's gonna have the worst birthday ever now," Tony said. "Won't even get a present from his Dad."
"It's not your fault," she said softly.
"I know that logically," he said, "But it still feels like it's my fault. Maybe, if I'd been quicker after the shooting, maybe he wouldn't have bled out. Maybe, we could have saved him."
She knew these thoughts. Often they had plagued her. If things had gone differently. If she had done something else. Anything else.
"You cannot carry that burden," she said. "You did what you could."
"It doesn't feel like enough," Tony said.
"It never will," she said, voice drifting away.
How quickly the past slipped into the present, despite the barriers she put up to try and separate them. The past was a foreign country, but the borders were blurred. Memories slipped through.
She waited for a witty remark, about how she should not give pep talks. That's how these things usually went, with them.
"What am I supposed to do about that?" he asked instead. His voice cracking. His eyes bulging with tears. A few tears slipped down his cheek.
"Learn to live with it," she said, as she ran her hand over his cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen. "This is a bad day, but there will be good days again."
"Yeah," Tony said, voice heavy. The air around them felt heavy, like they were up a mountain. The sadness made the room humid.
"Come to bed," she whispered, as they both looked out into her lounge. Grey shadows danced on the wall, as cars sped by outside. Her television stared back at them, with a blank screen.
"I don't think I'll be able sleep," he said.
He didn't want to close his eyes, fearing what horrors awaited him in his dreams. If he closed his eyes, the train would be heading straight for nightmare city.
"That's fine," she said softly. "We can just lay there."
"I'll keep you up," he said.
"That's fine," she repeated. "We'll just lay there."
"Boss told me, that I only have to go in for a couple of hours tomorrow," he said. "Just to give my statement and tidy things up. Then he doesn't want to see me until Tuesday. Said I should take a long weekend."
"He is probably right," Ziva said. "I will be done with my classes at midday, I could pick you up. We could do something."
It all sounded so decedent. To make plans, when there was a five year old who was going to face life without his father, and a seventeen year old who took a bullet before, he could really know what life was.
"No," he said. "Maybe, I'll just go back to my place."
He was finding it harder, and harder to call his place home. Whenever, he thought of home, he thought of Ziva's overstuffed couch, and the seemingly endless supply of candles she had.
"I would rather, you did not," Ziva said. "I don't want you to hide from me, just because you are hurting. I do not want you to feel like you are alone in this."
You are not alone, he told her in Hebrew he'd learnt from Schmeil. Her father was dead. She was going back to Israel for the first time, since she had given up her Israeli citizenship. She had hugged him so tight in that airfield. He had been so goddamn close to offering to come with her.
"I'm not exactly going to be the best company," he said. He just wanted to hide from the world. She did not need to see him at his worst. "And you gotta study."
Her finals were approaching, and this time it was all a lot more stressful. In the fall semester, she had been taking a small course load, with most of the classes being repeats of high school. She might have learnt geometry in Hebrew, but eventually the concepts came back to her.
This semester, had a courseload almost double the size, and classes on topics she had never studied before. Tony had told her she could take the whole college thing a bit slower, that he'd wait for her, but a part of her wanted it done. She wanted to put that degree to work. She wanted to help people. She had taken so much from the world. Now, she needed to give something back. Instead of taking lives, she wanted to help people rebuild lives that had been shattered.
"I can take a study break," she said. "And I like your company, for better and for worse."
For better, and for worse. In sickness and in health. Till death do them part. They may not have said the vows, but they already lived them.
"We can have a quiet weekend," she continued, wanting to keep him close. "We will do whatever you want. But, we will do it together. We do not have to talk about what happened today, but I do not want you to feel like you are doing this alone."
As much as a part of him, wanted to hide. Her idea sounded infinitely better. They'd get through this together. Just like they always did. Just like they always would.
"Okay," he said, his voice still so soft.
She placed a kiss on his forehead. He held her gaze. There was still more to say.
"This weekend, do you think we can talk about what we started talking about the other week?" he asked. "You know about the future."
"About your career?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said his voice heavy. "I don't know how many more bad days I can take."
She knew what this meant. It had been less than a year, since she came to her own dramatic conclusion, that she could no longer hold onto the badge. The suffering was eating her from the inside out. She wanted this life of peace. Tony, was not so burned, but he could not keep giving it his all, as the energy reserves were low.
"Of course," she whispered. "Whatever you need."
"What if I don't know what I need?" he asked.
"Then we can talk, and see if we can get to what you need," she assured him. "We can talk for as long as you need to."
"Thank you," he whispered.
He had been thinking about leaving the team for a while now, not because he didn't want to work with Gibbs, McGee and Ellie anymore, but because things didn't fit like they used to. The days were harder, and longer. How much more suffering could he bear witness to? How much of his and Ziva's life could he miss?
"You are not alone, Tony," she said softly.
"I know," he replied. He really did believe it.
A/N: I don't own a thing.
Thanks for the love.
Kinda meh about this chapter, but I need it to move the story along.
Next chapter will be up in a couple of weeks, because of the move. It features Senior.