Chapter 16—
Ziva wrapped her arms around herself to hide away from the cold. She wore only a thin blouse and the rain was icy, accompanied by a wicked wind that made her hair fly about. Her normally soft skin erupted in gooseflesh and her lips trembled.
She tried to run across the parking lot beneath Tony's building but her heels slipped on the wet gravel and she fell, cutting her hands as she tried to save herself. She pulled herself up and kept running, and she did not stop until she made it to her car. In the dark, she fumbled for the keys and ran her fingers over the rusty paintwork of the old car until she found the lock and then the ignition.
Once she could hear the sound of rain against the windshield, it seemed heavier somehow. She blasted the heating and warmed her hands before bracing them on the wheel and driving toward home.
No matter how warm she became, her lips still trembled, and soon she began to feel like it maybe had less to do with the rain and more to do with him.
It was cliché but honestly, the whole thing was a blur in her head. The night had somehow turned from good to bad to just plain confusing. Of all the men that had wanted to kiss her, she never suspected Tony.
But of course he did, she thought to herself. Why else would he buy her groceries, help her turn her life around? Why else other than to kiss her and to have her with no nagging morals? He'd done his part, now she would do hers. In return. Like a bargain. A payment. A transaction that would make neither of them better than the people they were weeks ago before they knew each other.
But that did not seem like the Tony she had come to know. Wouldn't he have done something before now, had he wanted her so badly? Ziva gripped the steering wheel harder and her knuckles began to turn white. Could it be that he'd kissed her for a reason other than physical gratification? Was she missing something?
What had she overlooked in these past few weeks?
The way he smiled at her across the office, every time she stepped into the room. The way he looked at her when she was concentrating on doing something and she'd catch him and laugh it off, never suspecting anything. The way he gave her gentle little touches as he walked past her, and then was so rough and boyish with the men. And oh, everything behind those looks and touches he'd kept hidden from her. Until tonight, when he had seen no better consolation than to press his lips to hers in a desperate attempt to fulfil her need for self-worth, and to tell her that, yes, she was special and she was wholly and completely worth the heartbreak.
And as perfect as that all sounded, it was entirely unbelievable, and Ziva sighed to herself as she realised this.
It sounded almost like one of those movies that he liked so much. It couldn't possibly be true, could it? It reminded her of La Traviata, an opera that she quite liked, about a man who falls in love with a courtesan named Violetta.
But her life was not an opera, nor a movie, and despite her logic, Ziva had a hard time believing that Tony would have real feelings for her. She had never met anyone who had before. She had never tried to. Was it possible that his heart was fuelling his actions? Surely not. Ziva David did not fuel anything in a man's heart – rather, in another part of his anatomy.
Oh, but that kiss. That sweet, sweet kiss. She had never been kissed like that in her entire life. Her father used to peck her forehead when she was small. Scorpion was rough with her and she would have to fight to breathe. Other men had been the same. But Tony . . . well, he was different in the way he kissed like he was different from them in every other way. And he was different in the best possible way. That was not the kiss of a man who wanted nothing more than satisfaction out of her.
Tony DiNozzo had kissed her, and quite frankly, she'd felt pleasure that was foreign to her in that moment. Pleasure and ecstasy and safety and yet, she had pulled away from him. She had pulled away, and here she was in her car, driving through a storm to get away from him when there was a part of her brain telling her, go back. Lay in his arms. Let him hold you. Let him love you.
And yes, God yes, she wanted to but still she told herself no. There was a reason for that. She'd learned by now that affairs of the heart and affairs of the body were things that could became awfully muddled, and frighteningly fast. And even when they don't, nothing seems to stand the murderous test of time. Even if she did give herself over there was too much of a chance that it would end in heartbreak – emotional instability worse than what she already had was something that would do her no good in looking after Tali. And Tali was her first priority.
That alone was another reason for her to keep driving. No lover, no special person like him deserves to be second in the life of someone they love. Eventually, enough would be had and they . . . he would grow tired of coming second.
Maybe what she had told him that night weeks ago, when they had first met, maybe that had been true. Maybe there was no time for Tony after all. She had believed that his intentions had changed from what she thought them to be since that very first night, but perhaps not. How ever loving and sweet he was, that did not change the fact that what she said had been true.
Or maybe she just didn't believe she was good enough for him. She couldn't give him stability in any way, especially emotionally. She had a little person to take care of. She had serious baggage. Surely he would do better loving someone else? Someone that was just . . .better?
Oh. That was why she had pulled away from him.
Things became blurrier. Lights passed over her as she drove along the empty streets. The windshield wipers kept perfectly in time. A U2 song came on the radio. And Tony had kissed her. And for now, she was unsure where to go.
She went into the basement of her apartment building. It was a room that's small and more rundown than the rest of the building, which is saying something. The walls were an unsettling tan colour, and it was lit by a single light bulb. Worn, thin, floorboards were walked upon to reach a small sofa, a few untouched boxes full of valueless items, and a piano. Its ivory keys were yellowing and it was dusty, and its sound was distorted, but it was still music. And when she was the most shaken up, music helped her settle down.
For a while, she just caressed the keys with little thought to how they sounded. Chords rang through the little room and the sound alone was enough for her mind to stop racing. She stayed there for hours, losingherself in the sound. But every so often she would look over her shoulder at the door. No one stood there. No one turned the handle. There was no sound of a knock.
And even after telling herself that that she mustn't, a small part of her still wanted to go back to him.
...
He didn't go after her. How could he? After that?
Distance would be safest, he assured himself. Though clearly he was not very persuasive, because he did not, and could not, stay away for very long.
...
She didn't want to go to work on Monday. She had to, but she didn't want to.
It was not that she didn't want to see Tony, it was that she didn't want to have to dread seeing him. And she did. Too much for her own liking. She wanted to see the Tony that hadn't tipped them overboard into a sea of uncertainty and confusion and feelings. She wanted to see the grocery man; the man who cooked for them. The man that had seemed a dream.
And with a sigh she noted that he was not any less of a dream now, apart from the fact that such an intimate touch had scared her into reality. She had been running around with this man for weeks and somehow convinced herself that he was a Prince Charming when he was really only human? He was a sweet, compassionate, giving human, but a human nonetheless. And humans, Ziva knew, were complicated.
She pulled the cover over her face in frustration. She felt inconceivably torn. All the parts of her mind that she had ignored for years – the ones that encouraged the likes of pleasure and companionship – were screaming at her. And yet she kept telling herself that she had been right to walk away. She kept telling herself to stay standing and not to fall, because after a kiss like that and a sleepless night, it would be so unbelievably easy.
Her train of thought disappeared when she heard footsteps behind her.
...
Tony cursed himself as he took the turn to Ziva's apartment instead of the Police Department. She wouldn't be at work yet – he was much too early. They hadn't spoken in two days and it was freaking him out. He had to see her. He had to fix things between them, if it killed him.
In his Mustang, Tony passed Tali on her way to the bus stop.
"Hey, kiddo," he said with melancholy feeling. He reminded him of Ziva a lot. "How's it going?"
"Okay," Tali answered, her grip tightening on the straps of her backpack.
"You want a ride to school?"
"No, thanks. But can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Did you and Ziva have a fight? She's been really quiet and weird all weekend and I was just wondering."
"Well, not exactly, but I guess it's something that needs fixing."
Tali looked at the cracks in the pavement beneath her feet. "I think Ziva needs a lot of fixing, Tony. Can you do it?"
"Your sister doesn't need fixing, sweetie. It's just what happened between us that does," Tony assured her. He hated the idea that Ziva thought she might need fixing.
"Well, can you fix that?"
"I'm gonna try my best."
Tali looked unsure.
"I had a friend, Tali, who was really good at fixing stuff. He was good with wood, too. He could build almost anything, and most nights that was what he did. But what's more important is that he always knew exactly what to say, and he meant it."
"What happened to him?"
"Nothing, far as I know. We just don't talk much anymore."
"You should," Tali said. "Maybe he can help you fix things with Ziva."
"You seem pretty keen for that to happen," he commented, bending down a little. "There a reason for that?"
Tali thought about his question for a moment. "I like you, Tony. And . . . you're one of the first people to stick around us this long. I have Ziva to stick around for me, but I think she needs someone to stick around for her. I don't think she thinks anybody will."
"Yeah," he sighed, and then remembered that he was talking to a twelve year old. "How'd you get so smart, anyway?
She just laughed and said that she had to go or else she would miss her bus.
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far. Keep them coming, please! Also, if you want to hear the piano music that fits with that scene, then go to my tumblr (cotederpablo) and you will find it in the post of this chapter under my fanfiction tag in my sidebar. (: