A/N: Hello all! How was everyone's week?
Anyways, I am sad to inform you that I will be taking a rather brief haitus. It really was not smart of me at all to start a fan fiction so close to my exams, I apologize. It's just my exams are almost a week away and I have to get studying. I will return the first Sunday of February. But there may be something next Sunday if I will be able to finish the next chapter.. I cannot guarantee anything though.
Now, here's chapter 3! Enjoy! (really I feel like shit for doing this guys, I am so, so sorry.)
A beautiful woman with curly brown hair and ravishing perfect olive skin returned to him with a baguette in hand. She smiles, that all too recognizable smile that is just for him as he briefly looks up into her eyes. He momentarily felt the world freeze in front of him. It made his knees feel weak. Those damn dark chocolate eyes always have an affect on him.
For a long time there was silence, but then she finally spoke.
"Tony, why are you here?" She asked softly.
"I'm here because of you. You led me here," He admitted.
She was silent for a moment. Then she moved closer, close enough until she could feel him breathing over her. They held their gazes. At that moment she cupped his face affectionately. It made his pulse quicken. She spoke.
"Then keep following me," She whispered into his ear, then ended the conversation by walking away to the Eiffel Tower.
"Are you kidding me?" Tony muttered bitterly as he awoke.
Suddenly, he remembered he was at the beach. Presumably fell asleep by the ocean in Los Angeles. Los. Angeles. How long would that even take to get to Paris? He sighs with defeat and runs a hand through his hair. The things he does for this woman.
What intrigues him the most are these dreams. They have to mean something, he's sure of it. They already led him to Los Angeles, and now? They're leading him to the famous City of Lights. She's bringing him to the places they have visited together. However, the ultimate question is: is she leading him to the place where he will find himself? He's convinced revisiting these places will help him find out who he is. Tony shakes his head is disbelief. All he has to do is link the puzzle pieces together.
Arriving at his hotel room, he places his phone on the hazel colored nightstand and charges it. Then he heads directly to the bathroom to shower.
"Where are you going to take me next, Ziva?" He wonders.
Upon finishing with the shower, he steps out, cleans up and changes. Afterwards, he packs his clothes and heads to the main floor to check out.
It's noon when he reaches the outside of the Ritz Milner. He takes his phone out of his pocket and calls a taxi. It has only been two days and he is already tired of taxis. Without a doubt, he'll probably hate airports too.
As the taxi rolls up in front of him, Tony calmly enters the yellow vehicle. As he closes the door and buckles up the seat belt, the distinct smell of stale cigarettes from previous passengers wafts up his nose.
He momentarily looks up at the Taxi driver from the rear-view mirror. Tony thinks he's in his mid 60's. Light skinned. Reminds him of his uncle Vincenzo. A little plump, but muscular. His hair, dark and greasy, is a dull color like faded hardwood. But that comparison isn't entirely fair, he supposes. The depths of that deep pale chestnut brown reflects his smile and steel blue eyes. Probably Italian. By the time Tony finishes observing the man, he notices the taxi driver already looking at him, probably wanting to start a conversation. He grins and before Tony knows, the man is speaking to him.
"You look like you went to hell and back," The driver stated, Italian accent thick.
Definitely Italian.
"Yes, well-," Tony explained, but got cut off when the man spoke again.
"Name's Francesco. But you can call me Frankie," he continued.
"Tony. Say, do you always not let people finish their sen-"
"Ah, Tony. That's an Italian name. Are you Italian too?" Frankie questioned.
"Yeah." Tony managed to say, tired of being interrupted.
There was silence. But of course, the man spoke once more.
"Where are you from? Are you from America?"
Tony sighed, "I live in Washington. Washington D.C."
"That is a long way from here, my friend," Frankie commented.
"It is," Tony murmured, no longer looking at the man in front of him.
Instead, Tony began to look outside the window, viewing the world before him. He notices the vibrant blue cloudless sky first, the way the warmth from the sun hit his face. Next he sees a beach. The waves casting themselves on the soft and golden sand, the sun making it sparkle like glitter. He would rather get lost in a trance by looking at the ocean than thinking about her being with him at the very moment. Which he does.
Frankie looks at Tony from the rear-view mirror. It is his turn to observe the younger man. He is wearing a salmon color long sleeve button-up with faded blue denim jeans. Frankie chuckles at the sight of Tony's crop of brown hair tussled in a 'not bothering to comb my hair even though I just got out of the shower' look. Clearly he had to leave in a hurry. Nonetheless, Frankie could not help but notice the way his sea green eyes filled with worry, sorrow and determination. The heavy bags under his eyes give away his exhaustion and hopelessness.
He feels a stab of guilt rise up in him. Why should he care about a stranger? Most of the people that ride in his vehicle are ignorant, impolite and rambunctious. But this guy? He's none of those things. He actually seems like a good person. So, maybe it's because he's pitying him? Or perhaps it's because he sees a little of himself in the younger man and doesn't want him to grow old and be a worthless taxi driver. Definitely the latter. Before his brain can process what is happening, Frankie opens his mouth and begins speaking.
"Alright. You honestly look like hell, kid. Listen, If it's about a job, keep applying to other ones. You never know where they may take you. If it's about family, just realize you have friends who will be there for you, even when your family isn't. Because you know what? They probably care about you. If it's about a girl, well, as corny as this may seem, follow your heart. If it tells you to move on, to get rid of the nagging pain in your heart, then move on. But if it tells you to make sure she doesn't slip through your fingers, never let her go, because, well," Frankie pauses. "You might never get a chance with a girl like that again.
"Wherever it may lead you, I'm sure it will determine whether or not you will have a future with her. Tony, whatever it is that is troubling you, just know you can either stay in the past for the rest of your life, constantly thinking about what you could have done instead of actually doing it, or getting your shit together and look forward to the future. But in order to look forward to the future, you have to be happy with the decisions you make. Keep asking yourself, is it really worth it?"
Tony became still on the jet-black leather seat, speechless. More than speechless, he thought. He is flat out stunned. He is stunned that the words spoken came out of a cab driver. When Tony looks up to meet Frankie's eyes, he sees the older man as shocked as he is. He didn't even know he could say something like that.
Tony shifts uncomfortably on the seat and rubs the nape of his neck. How is he supposed to respond to that? Tony shakes his head and closes his eyes. He decides to not to say anything at all for the rest of the ride.
After ten minutes, Frankie disrupts the awkward silence, "Here we are young man, Los Angeles National Airport. Have a good day."
He grunts as he steps out of the yellow vehicle while taking note of Frankie's sudden change of character. He considers should at least say thanks for the ride. Or maybe he should say thank you for helping him reassure that going to these places are exactly what he should be doing to be at peace with himself. But he does neither.
"Hey Frankie?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"Bonjour Monsieur. Welcome to Paris." a woman says politely. Tony tiredly nods in return. It was around 1100 hours when he arrived.
God, out of all places, she had to bring him here. He remembers distinctively that he wanted to discuss with her what happened here all those years ago..what happened between them. But of course, he never had the opportunity.
Finding his bags, he walks out of the airport and is temporarily blinded from the rays coming from the sun. After regaining his vision, Tony spots a nearby outdoor café. When he arrives, immediately the smell of freshly baked bread fills his nostrils. He never realized how hungry he was until now. Tony finds an empty table and happily sits down, eying the petite blond waitress as she walks past him and heads into the inside of the restaurant.
Finishing his lunch, the same petite blond waitress smirks at him as she places a single thin white paper on his table and walks away. The bill. While Tony opens his wallet, something catches his attention that is sticking out of a pocket. Perhaps it was a receipt? Or a movie ticket he forgot to throw out? Whatever it was, it did not stop him from reaching for it. When he unfolds it, his eyes widen in astonishment as he feels them also begin to water. Tony presses his lips together firmly. It was a picture of her. He actually forgot he put that picture in his wallet. He just cannot quite believe that he kept that picture in his wallet after so many years. Literally years. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips.
Well, it is his favorite picture after all.
A/N: I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! I actually had fun writing this one... Again, I am so sorry I have to go on haitus. But school, you know?
~edancel x