A/N: This chapter is a direct continuation of the last one. At the end of Ch 23 Ziva went to sleep and Tony left to have a shower. That is where we pick up.
Tony sat on the bathroom floor in front of the sink and just let the water run. He shoved his fingers through his hair. He was glad that Ziva felt comfortable enough with him to share why his actions scared her, but he wished to the depths of who he was that she didn't have to, that Somalia wasn't something they'd be dealing with every day for longer than he cared to think about.
Sighing, he got up and finally undressed and stepped into the shower. Despite what he'd told Ziva earlier, the little incident they'd had did make him angry. But instead of raging about the unfairness, Tony took it out in short, fast, harsh movements as he washed his hair and body. When he shut the water off and got out, rough strokes of the towel dried all the moisture off his skin.
He stepped into boxers, then drew sleep pants over them and finished with a t-shirt. His days of sleeping in nothing at all were over, but Tony would settle for just boxers if it meant he got to hold Ziva against his bare skin. He scowled at his reflection when he caught a glimpse. Who knew when she'd be ready for something like that?
Shutting off the light, he moved quietly thought the silent bedroom and got in carefully on his side, not wanting to disturb Ziva. Whether she was actually sleeping or just pretending he didn't know yet, but he'd learn. Sighing, Tony decided to be thankful that she was laying there so close in his bed, where he knew she belonged. The rest could wait for another day, for tonight it was enough.
NCIS
Their first nightmare to deal with as a married couple came only hours later. When Ziva thrashed, trying to get away, Tony woke up. He hadn't even realized that he'd reached for her in sleep and molded his body to hers in the darkness. At any other time she might welcome his touch, but in the throes of darkness he became a threat.
"No, please. Let go!" she demanded, then repeated the command in what he assumed was Arabic.
Ziva's pleas cut into his heart and Tony remembered how long it had been since he'd seen one of her nightmares and wondered how often they came now. He started to change the way he was holding her, wanting to help, but at that moment she moved and he lost his chance.
Torn from the relentless memories when she wrenched herself away from the arm grabbing her, Ziva found her face wet with tears she didn't remember crying and for one horrible moment, she thought she was alone. But then her ears became attuned to the stillness and she heard measured breaths and sensed the presence of another.
Glancing over her shoulder, Ziva saw her husband's concerned eyes watching her and she willingly shrank back into Tony's embrace. His strong arms came around her, securing her body against his, trying to make her safe. Ziva shook with the force of remembering and covered her eyes, trying to block them out.
The baby kicked and Tony felt its movement. He pushed back her hair and put his lips by her ear. "See there? She's worried about you too." It passed through his head to question whether or not the baby experienced any kind of reaction when Ziva dreamed, but that was something they would never know.
His wife must've been thinking the same thing because she held his arm tighter and whispered, "I hope she does not see what I dream."
He closed his eyes, glad she wasn't looking at him right now, and forced levity into his voice. "Nah, she's probably dreaming about being out of there and running around in the sunshine."
Ziva slid her hand over the place where the baby was active. "Do not wish her out too soon Tony, she needs these last six weeks."
Tony kissed her cheek. "I know sweetheart." Once she'd stopped shaking and her breathing was not so ragged, Tony rested his chin on her shoulder. "Want to tell me about it?"
She immediately shook her head. "Some of them are not worth telling about."
He rubbed his hand down her arm, feeling scars grace his palm. "I'd still listen."
There was a tightness in his voice and Ziva rolled over to see his face. He was right, the silk made that maneuver much easier. Her hand came up to his cheek and she searched his eyes, seeing what he wanted to hide. "I do not only dream about...being used," she hesitated over which word to use. She still could not handle the term itself, but she wanted to clarify this for him. "There is so much else they did that creates the nightmares."
Her explanation didn't seem to help and the look on his face broke her heart. She wished Tony could hold her the way she wanted, face to face and touching from head to toes, but until the baby came that was impossible. So she settled on her side with her head on Tony's shoulder and her hand over his heart. The steady beat was comforting and Ziva decided this was how things felt right. Then Tony's arm curled around her back and she smiled. That was all she needed to think good dreams for the rest of the night.
NCIS
When Tony woke up Ziva was not beside him and he was glad her things were in his room or the panic might've lasted more than just a moment. Throwing on a sweater, he started wandering from room to room looking for his wife. He found her sitting at the kitchen table, her hair sleep tousled in a way he loved, wearing the hoody that used to be his. After that night at his apartment she had never given it back, but he didn't mind sharing.
She looked up from whatever she was writing and smiled at him. Tony leaned down to kiss her, pleased that even after her early morning nightmare, Ziva was still able to easily accept his touch. He glanced down at the paper. "Whatcha working on?"
Ziva indicated the title. "Our Rules. I do not think Gibbs is the only one who can make a list."
Tony pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. "Rule #1?"
She added the final few words. "Do not apologize when it is not your fault." Even with the rule, he still wished he could apologize for everything he would do in future days to bring Somalia back to the present. Ziva sought to understand the look in his eyes. "Is there anything you want to add?"
He looped his fingers through her hair. "That will have to be Rule #2, you already came up with #1 - Never leave without saying goodbye." She nodded, remembering, and waited. Tony gave her a half-grin. "Mine would be more like, 'Say I love you every time you think it', 'Kiss me every day for the rest of our lives'." He sighed and leaned his head on her arm. "Thank you for letting me hold you after a bad dream."
Ziva ran her hand over his spiky hair. "That is not a rule," she murmured, "but it is what I have wanted every time I woke up since October."
He pulled her into his arms. "Ziva..."
"I am alright Tony," she assured him, but he frowned.
"You go through that how many times a week? How can you possibly be okay?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "It has been a part of my life for seven months. I cannot make them stop but I try not to let them haunt my days as well as my nights."
Tony blew out a breath, not wanting to be able to take it in stride like she did, to accept it. He stood and touched her cheek. "I'm not alright with your nightmares Zi, I never will be." His gaze held a deep sorrow. "I wish you didn't have to be." Then he smiled because he had to. "Pancakes for breakfast?"
She nodded once. "Thank you." This man she'd married was a mystery in so many ways, not the least of which was how much he had learned to care. If life couldn't be sunshine and rainbows, Ziva reasoned, at least she would always have his love.
NCIS
Abby stamped her foot and threw the sweater she was holding on the floor. "How can I know what to pack if you won't tell me where we're going?"
Their flight left at noon the next day, it was ten o'clock at night and Abby had unpacked her suitcase three times. Tim didn't know whether to laugh or pull his hair out in frustration. He settled for a patient repetition of his reasoning. "It's a surprise." She'd heard this six times already since they got home and it wasn't helping.
Abby glared at him and crossed her arms. "That does not answer my question."
McGee gestured to his suitcase. "See what I'm bringing? Just pack similar kinds of clothes." That suggestion hadn't gotten him anywhere last time, but it was worth another try.
She frowned and flopped down onto the bed. "Oh just tell me what to take already!"
He leaned against the wall and tried not to roll his eyes. She'd called him bossy two hours ago when he'd offered to help that way, but this time it was her idea so that probably made it better somehow. "Pants, long sleeved shirts, sweaters, comfortable shoes."
"We're either going camping or to Antarctica," she muttered darkly. "Can't I bring any skirts?"
While Tim wasn't one to argue about seeing his wife in her customary short skirts, it wouldn't be his first choice for a non-tropical destination. Still, that was not the answer she wanted. "Sure, bring a couple," he agreed. "But I'm warning you now that you might be cold."
"Not when I have you to warm me up," Abby argued, a coy smile crawling over her face. Her mood had turned on a dime and Tim wasn't sure if he should be grateful or scared. "It is our honeymoon after all, right?"
He crossed the room and took her in his arms, kissing her until neither of them could breathe, the look in her eyes totally irresistible. "Well yes," McGee agreed, "there is that."
She pulled him back onto the bed, already working the buttons on his shirt. "Abby!" he protested. "We have to get ready to leave." Her mouth on his interrupted his words and Tim knew he wouldn't be able to refuse her. He wanted her as much as she needed him. It was a pregnancy side effect he hadn't gotten tired of yet.
"We can pack tomorrow," Abby whispered huskily into his ear. "I want you."
McGee shoved her suitcase off the bed and placed a trail of kisses down the creamy line of her throat. "Just using me for sex, huh?" he tried to tease, but his concentration was pretty much out the window by now.
"Yeah, because that would be a problem," Abby panted, pulling her shirt over her head and fumbling with his belt.
"Well, I wouldn't want you to think I was easy," Tim commented, taking care of their remaining clothes.
Abby crawled on top of him and chuckled. "Timmy, you've always been easy for me."
As she leaned down and capture his lips in a deep kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, McGee had to admit she was right. Against Abby he was defenseless, but to be perfectly honest he wouldn't have it any other way.
NCIS
Gibbs was slightly taken aback when he opened the door early Saturday morning and found Celeste on his doorstep carrying a covered dish. He rubbed his face, sure now that he wasn't getting any more sleep. When he didn't ask, she rolled her eyes and stepped past him, heading for the kitchen. Gibbs followed her and watched as she got out plates and forks to set the table.
"I made you breakfast Jethro," she said by way of explanation as she cut and served what looked like quiche. Celeste turned on the coffee maker and got out a mug for him, pouring orange juice for herself. Finally she raised an eyebrow and pointed to the chair across from her. "Sit. Eat. No arguing."
Gibbs sat and took a bite. It was delicious but he wouldn't be conversational until after he had some coffee. Two minutes later he got up and tipped a good portion into his mug. A few sips and another mouthful of quiche finally loosened his tongue. "It's good."
Celeste smiled. "Next time I'll meet you at the door with a cup. You're quite the grizzly bear before you've had your coffee. I'd forgotten that part."
"Been a long time since you were here for a morning," he pointed out, then glanced at the clock. "0800?"
She shrugged. "The man I remember never slept in on Saturdays even if it is customary."
"I'm a stubborn, grouchy old dog, not company good this early."
Celeste chuckled. "Some might say you're never good company, but your moods don't scare me, I can handle silence and if you ever try to headslap me it won't be easy to get yourself out of that hole. Now finish your breakfast and get dressed. I have an appointment with Jenna downtown, you can read the paper while you wait."
Normally Gibbs didn't let many people boss him around. Celeste could get away with it because of their history, but he had a feeling he was being set up for something. "And?"
She didn't meet his eyes. "There's an opening of a new gallery exhibit that I wanted company for. We could do lunch after." Feeding him might be considered a bribe, but she wasn't against using that when necessary.
"I'm feeling manipulated," he grumbled.
"You'll live," Celeste said lightly, draining the rest of her juice. "Hurry up please, Jenna will throw a fit if I'm late."
He barked a laugh. "Might be worth it to see the fireworks."
"Jethro," she chided, "be nice."
He ate the last bite and finished his coffee. "Next time we work on the boat."
Celeste smiled gently. "I promise I won't drag you out to experience culture and society more than once every few months." She lifted an eyebrow. "Boat and basement? It's a date."
Gibbs stood to go upstairs and get ready, still finding it hard to believe that they'd gotten a second chance. And contrary to his gruff and abrasive behaviour, he had no intention of purposely screwing it up, even if he was testing to see how far Celeste would let him push. Accidentally? Well, that was another subject entirely.
NCIS
Abby was buzzed on her final cup of non-Caf Pow before they left the country and so excited she was practically jumping up and down as they stood in line to get tickets and check their bags. Despite her mood last night, improved greatly by the physical release compliments of her husband, she really was excited about finally getting a honeymoon with him, especially now that she'd get to find out their destination.
Tim dealt with tagging their luggage and then grinned as he handed over her ticket. Abby's eyes ran over the words, leapt to him and read them again. He braced for the hug and then she twirled around in a circle. "Ireland? You're taking me to Ireland? Really?"
"Really," Tim laughed, glad she approved. "A cozy little B&B, a couple guided tours, and lots of time to wander off by ourselves and see the sights, especially those old castles and churches with the Gothic architecture you love."
She kissed him full on the mouth in view of everyone else, not caring who saw. "Thank you," she whispered.
He fit his arm around her waist and led her away to wait at their gate. Even if people thought her appearance strange, Tim was pretty sure he was the envy of many other guys in line. "For you Abbs, anything," he murmured. Forever and ever this would be his life. And if the look on her face as any indication, it was going to be a fantastic honeymoon. Timothy McGee knew he was one lucky man.