Chapter 17 –

The walk to the bus stop seemed long than normal. Like the street was just an endless expansion of pavement. But Tali pressed on, ignoring her aching legs and her spinning thoughts.

In truth, she was worried about Ziva. She usually was. For a girl of twelve, Tali had spent many nights worrying about her sister, not sleeping, not wanting to eat. And it wasn't like the young girl couldn't hold her own, because she could. She was not worried of being without Ziva, but she worried for Ziva when they were apart.

For some reason, Ziva had taken the death of her mother much harder than she had. The loss of a parent is always hard, but for some reason, for Ziva, it was harder. Tali had speculated on many occasions that maybe it was the stress of having to be a guardian, or not being able to graduate, or anxiety, or whether Ziva had simply been closer to their mother (Tali doubted that, though. Their mother, though a carer to them both, had never possessed the ability to understand the two of them the way they understood each other).

When Tony had made himself present on the scene, Tali was thankful. Maybe now there would be someone else around to do the worrying, and she could have a shot at being a normal kid. As normal as a bi-lingual Jewish orphan kid can be. Or maybe Tony could even eradicate the reasons to worry in the first place.

A girl could dream.

...

"What is it, tateleh?" Ziva mumbled, thinking Tali was at her door. Sleep seemed so very appealing and she didn't want to be woken.

"Actually, it's me," Tony said, in the gentlest voice possible. Coming here had been a risky move. He hadn't known she'd still be in bed, but they couldn't very well go to work in such states of confusion and they certainly couldn't talk there.

Ziva immediately rolled over and sat up. She moved so quickly that her head spun a little, but she ignored it. She squinted as sunlight from the window beamed into her eyes. "Where is Tali?"

"She's gone to the bus stop. Don't worry, she's okay. She just left a little early," he told her.

She nodded, considering the situation 'assessed', and then her mind was able to shift onto matters of her own. "What are you doing here?"

He took a seat on the corner of her bed and she pulled the covers up over her chest, feeling oddly exposed, which was ironic considering the way they met. "I wasn't sure if you were gonna come in today."

"So you decided to invade my bedroom?" He forced down a smile – sleepy Ziva was reminiscent of the sly, sharp girl he'd met weeks ago.

"I couldn't just leave you. Not after Friday night. After the way you felt. After that guy tried to pay you. I can't understand how you must've felt."

"Awful," she told him. "I felt awful."

"Yeah," he gulped. "And you just have to know that you're worth so much more than whatever he can give you. More than money. You're better."

"But what if I'm not?" she asked. "What if I am no better than what I was? Someone who sells themselves?"

"Ziva, there's no shame in what you did, and your motives were real and right."

Ziva felt her chest tighten up. She could recognise truth in his words but every second he spent talking made her feel terrified of what she was.

"You want to talk," she said. "Or are you just going to ignore the big hippopotamus in the room?"

He chuckled. "'Elephant.'"

"What?"

"It's an 'elephant in the room'."

She swallowed and swept a stray curl from her eyes, and said very quietly, "In Hebrew, the word is l'nashek."

"For 'elephant'?"

"No," she whispered. "It is Hebrew for 'to kiss'. And you kissed me."

He gave a sigh. "Yeah." He sounded calm, but inside he was terrified. "And you left."

She frowned. "Are you blaming me?"

"No," he answered simply. It was the truth.

"Why did you do it?" she whispered, looking hurt as she felt. "I don't understand. I thought that you . . . wanted to help me, and that you were not like them."

"I'm not!" he defended himself.

"Then why did you do it?"

"Do you really think that little of me that I'd kiss you just because I was like them? For the sake of pleasure or fun? Because I just felt like it? Or to assert dominance over you?"

"I don't think little of you, Tony," she told him, her hands clenching the comforter. It was still wrapped around her.

"Then," he reached out and touched her arm. "Why do you think I did it?"

She didn't move away from his touch, she welcomed it, and in a moment of bliss she let herself be lost in the feeling of his fingers trailing pathways down her arm. Feelings from the night before came rushing back, and the voices that had been calling for her to go to him were louder and clearer than before.

And then his touch left her.

"I'm not going to pretend," he said. "That I haven't the best part of a month wanting to kiss you, Ziva. And I'm not going to pretend that it didn't hurt when you walked out that door. But you mean more to me than my feelings, so if you want me to pretend that they don't exist then that's what I'll do. Say the word."

She said nothing, and he got up to leave, feeling that little more could be said.

"Feelings?" she called, and he turned around.

"Don't pretend like you didn't notice it," he told her with a crooked smile. Crooked smiles are the best kind.

"You shouldn't have feelings for me," she told him, shaking her head. "It's impractical, to say the least."

"When is the heart ever practical?"

"Rarely," she answered, her eyes welling up a little. "But it is still not a good idea."

"Tell me why."

"Do you remember when we met, and I told you I didn't have time for you?"

"Vaguely," he answered.

"You basically ignored me. But I told you that because I meant it. Anyone who even shows a little interest has to know that they can never be my first priority. It does not work. And even then, you deserve someone better than me." She looked strangely small at that moment, like she wanted to disappear. God, how he wished he could make her know how much she was worth.

He walked back over to the bed and kneeled beside it. "Everyone deserves to love someone, Ziva."

She choked up. "Love?" she whispered, her voice barely there at all.

He bit his lip at his slip of the tongue. "Can we pretend I didn't say that?" he asked with a bashful smile.

Ziva's heart was pounding in her chest and a grin began to spread across her face. She reached over and cupped his cheek in her small hands. "No," she told him. "We can't."

And she closed the gap between them. Their lips crashed together and he reached up to hold her waist. But he didn't push her. He would be perfectly content to kiss her forever. Her hands were soft against his stubbly cheek and he felt her smile against his lips as his other hand intertwined in her hair. It was the closest thing to perfect he had ever felt, and all from the feelings a woman who believed she was too flawed could inflict.

They parted, both trying to control their breathing. Their foreheads touched. She took both of his hands in her own.

"Stay," she whispered, sounding less like an order and more like a plea.

"Work," he replied, afraid he would not be able to say anything more complex. She groaned, and he laughed softly. She laughed, too, eventually.

"That's why," he told her, standing.

"That's why what?"

"That's why I kissed you." He ran his thumb across your cheek. "You're so beautiful, Ziva, but I didn't kiss you for that." His hand ran down her neck and stopped beneath her collarbone. "You have the most amazing heart, Ziva. And I've never seen someone with such an ability to love be so afraid of it. But I'm not them – and I'll prove that to you if you'll let me."

"You already have," she assured him, looking up with her big brown eyes. Tears threatened to fall and she let them for once, and he caught them. He had caught her. And it felt so good to let herself fall for once.

"We've really gotta go," he said, the regret audible in his voice. "You want me to wait?"

"No," she said. "I will see you there."

And with little more than a nod he was gone, and Ziva felt her heart pounding inside her ribcage. She had kissed him this time, and realised with more clarity than ever that kissing a person did not change them, and that the Tony who left that morning was the same man that bought the groceries and cooked and organised job interviews. After making her feel like he did when they kissed, loving her was really just another favour.

And Ziva was sure it was her favourite.