Chapter 30—
For Tali, being home alone was one of the best things. She could read in peace, or she could play her music loudly (though not too loudly, for fear of complaining neighbours). And mostly, she could be sure – unlike all the other times she had been left alone in her life – that Ziva was out somewhere, having fun for herself.
It had been pointed out to her that though Ziva was protective of younger Tali by instinct, the emotion was quite mutual. Her entire life, Tali had watched her sister be dragged roughly through the dirt by life and she had never felt it fair. She had hated watching their parents discard her the way they often had, and she hated that Ziva had had to drop out of high school. She hated that she'd worked for that total scumbag, Scorpion. She hated that she had had her heart broken.
She hated all those things, because of all the people in the world, Tali loved Ziva the most. Watching somebody she loved have it so hard and not being able to do anything about it . . . it just sucked.
But then Tony had come along, and he had been able to do something about it. She had thought maybe, someone appearing and stealing the heart of the girl who pretended she did not have one would make Tali sad or neglected, but it just made her glad that Ziva was alright. He had known how to make a difference, and – though Tali had no idea how – he seemed to know her better than anybody else.
She supposed that was love, though. These past few months, she had learned a lot about love. She had learned that it was flawed and dangerous and sometimes painful, but still the closest to perfection that any human could come to. It was primal and ageless and delicate as a feather but strong as diamonds.
Tali hoped, in the innocence that she sometimes could not help but let it take over her, that her sister and the man she had fallen in love with should see no need to part ways again. It was much too painful.
The young girl pretended to be asleep when she heard familiar voices at the door, whispering to keep quiet. She smiled into her pillow.
"Tonight was fun," she heard Tony say, and she could hear the smirk on his face.
"It was." Out in the living room, where Tali could not see, the fingers of the two entangled, and they lingered for a seemingly endless moment where they could just be with each other. There were few of those moments. One of them had been at Tony's apartment, earlier that evening:
...
A few hours earlier...
Oh, how he loved lying beside her. The lamp light by his bed cast a soft glow over the room, and he lay there, watching her. His eyes protested, willing him to submit to tempting sleep, but he ignored them, keeping them open just to look at her.
Her back was to him, and the comforter had fallen down to her waist, revealing to him the clear, vast expanse of honey skin that was her back. Her hair was everywhere, but he didn't mind. It smelled like some weird fruity shampoo that, honestly, he had thought she was too tough to use. It made him smile. Everything about her did.
The feeling of having her back, though, was almost intimidating – strange.
Some greeting card somewhere that he would never send her would say that fate had brought them together in the first place, and fate had pulled them apart. It had been 'fate' tempting them and taunting them, tugging at the strings of their already aching hearts. But in such a life, it was all one could do to convince themselves that yes, life was a dangerous and random progression of molecules and that fate, some invisible being was the one to blame for the apparently unpreventable mishaps. Fate was a scapegoat.
But in moments like these, where she was so close, and so very beautiful, Tony could only think that it was all them. Fate had nothing to do with it. Their relationship, however short it was (though he often found himself not remembering) was a period of time punctuated with heartbreak, separation and tragedy and he had almost believed that fate was not going to give them another chance. But fate, he realised, did not have a choice in the matter.
He loved her too damn much to let somebody else decide.
He reminded her of that as she woke him at a quarter to ten with feather-light kisses across her bare skin.
...
"Goodnight," Tony whispered, and there was silence. They were kissing. Ziva clung to his jacket.
"Stay."
"Can't. Work," he pressed out, his words muffled by her lips. "And Tali's here."
"Always assuming," she said with a smile. "Maybe I just wanted company."
Tony glanced sideways at the clock on her wall. "I could do that."
...
He fell asleep with her in his arms, under the covers, his hand in her hair. His lips pressed limply to her temple. Their chests rising and falling almost in unison. Ziva snored sometimes, but didn't now, with him so near. Tali, from her room, smiled at that observation.
All wrapped up in each other was how Tali found them and woke them the next morning at seven fifteen.
Tali snorted as she laughed when they opened their eyes wide in alarm to see her standing there, like it was some huge deal. Both of them were fully clothed. Even so, Tony dashed out of bed and away from the girls in a second. Ziva sat up and called out in protest, missing his warmth already.
She understood him being jumpy, though. They had never been intimate in front of her; it was just something they agreed not to do. For Ziva's fear of Tali feeling inadequate or neglected, mostly. Tali was still her first priority. Nothing had changed.
"Did he stay here?" Tali asked, still laughing.
"Yes, he did. Sorry. I would have told you," Ziva explained tiredly. "But I did not know."
"It's okay. I don't mind." She glanced into the kitchen, where Tony was nervously pouring himself a bowl of cereal. "He's funny."
"He is just trying to look out for you, you know. That is why he ran away."
Both girls made their way into the kitchen. Ziva was in a T-shirt and tiny little shorts that she had worn to bed. Tony's gaze latched onto her the second she walked in without her thinking. Tali laughed again and he shook it off, pretending it never happened.
"You don't need to pretend like I'm a five year old, Tony," Tali insisted. "I mean, you are Ziva's boyfriend."
Tony looked across the kitchen at Ziva and smiled. "Yeah, you're right," he said. She circled the counter and kissed him on the cheek.
"French toast, anyone?" Tony offered.
"You can make French toast?" Tali asked.
"Well, I can make regular toast and serve it to you in a French accent."
Ziva hugged him, resting her head of messy curls against his chest. "Sounds good to me," she said.