Divergence/Convergence
Disclaimer: All characters property of CBS, not mine, alas.
Apologies for the delay. Two consecutive weekends of larp means my body is really really paying for it. I do intend to be quicker with updating for the rest of this fic! Season 13 finale is tomorrow here in the UK.
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Chapter 4: Transfer
The farewell dinner Tony had with his father on Saturday night went surprisingly well. Senior was quite tearful – probably due to the large quantity of alcohol he had been consuming – and Tony felt a little guilty for, to all intents and purposes, abandoning him in his twilight years. However, Senior assured him that he had made the right decision, that he should seize this role with both hands and do the DiNozzo name proud. "And for God's sake find that girl of yours!" he ordered.
McGee arrived half an hour early on Sunday. Tony was keeping his apartment but renting it out with McGee in charge of it Stateside, and the younger agent would be dealing with the removals company who were putting his furniture into storage (the agency's apartment in Tel Aviv was fully-furnished), before they loaded the three large suitcases into McGee's car. Tony stood on the pavement and looked up at the building. "I'm gonna miss this place. It was home for a long time."
McGee stood beside him. "I know what you mean. But I'm sure it won't take you long to settle into your new place."
"I guess." Tony turned towards the car and handed the apartment keys to McGee. "C'mon, let's go."
The drive to the airport was quiet, neither knowing what to say. In many ways they were close; things would certainly be different from now on. At the airport the fraternal hug between them lasted a long time, neither wanting to make the move to break it, which would symbolise that change.
McGee was the one to break it and he stepped back. "So, this is it."
"Yeah."
"Let me know you've landed OK."
Tony nodded. "Of course I will. Thanks for driving me." He hesitated. "I'm gonna miss you, Tim."
"I'll miss you, too. And keep in touch – you know what Abby'll be like if you don't email at least twice a day."
Tony laughed, which dispelled some of the tension. "Oh yeah, I do. I'll talk to you soon."
"Goodbye, Tony."
"Goodbye, McSenior Field Agent."
They hugged again, neither admitting the tears in their eyes; Tony broke the embrace this time, nodded at McGee, took hold of the baggage trolley, and turned and walked into the airport, not looking back. He knew that if he did, he would start crying and he did not want to give McGee that ammo.
He was actually doing this; it was real. In fifteen hours he would be in Tel Aviv, via Vienna, starting a new life.
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The flight was smooth and they landed half an hour early. Tony had slept for some of it, though not well, and spent the rest of it watching and critiquing the in-flight movies with the man next to him, who turned out to be a professor in film at Oregon State who was on his way to a Middle-Eastern Film conference in Tel Aviv. Intrigued by this, Tony exchanged contact details with him, with a view to broadening his knowledge and getting a better understanding of the academic and technical aspects of film.
After clearing customs and security, he fished his phone out of his bag and texted McGee: Good flight, landed early. Tell Abby she can stop worrying now. Around him people were hurrying, rushing, busy on their phones; he wondered how many of them were like him, starting a new life in a foreign country. Probably not many.
He allowed himself the luxury of people-watching as he made his way to the baggage carousel, seizing a baggage trolley the moment one became available and waiting for his suitcases to appear. Holidaymakers, religious pilgrims, businessmen and women, the professor from the plane (he and Tony waved at each other) passed through his line of sight.
His three cases came around the carousel close together and Tony hauled them onto the trolley; once he had done so he texted Adam: Got my bags, see you in a minute. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the trolley and pushed it towards the exit. He emerged into a crowd of people, holding signs in English, Hebrew, Arabic, Russian, Spanish, French and a few other languages he didn't recognise; hopefully he would be able to locate Adam in the sea of faces.
"Tony!" A hand waved.
Turning to his right, he spotted Adam and waved back, breathing a sigh of relief as he pushed the trolley towards the Mossad officer. "Adam! Wasn't sure I'd find you."
"It is a little busy," agreed Adam, surprising the NCIS agent by pulling him into a bear hug. "How was your flight?" He released him.
"It was good. Got to see The Producers, made a new friend – film professor, going to a conference. Slept a while, although you never properly sleep on a plane. Unless you're Gibbs. I'm pretty sure he could sleep through a magnitude ten earthquake."
"I expect he could. Are you ready to go?"
Tony nodded. "Let's hit the road."
"This way." Adam took control of the trolley and steered it towards the exit, expertly carving a path between people, with Tony close behind.
As they stepped out of the air-conditioned terminal, the heat hit. Hard. Tony had forgotten this aspect – although it wasn't the unbearable temperatures it would reach at the height of summer, May in Israel was considerably warmer than May in Washington DC. And he was still dressed for DC temperatures. "Your car's got air-con, right?"
Adam chuckled. "Of course."
"What's the actual plan? I'm assuming there's a plan?"
"I take you to get everything dealt with for your apartment, we go there and put your belongings in it and then I take you to mine for dinner. I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine to help you get to know a few people. Then tomorrow I will take you to collect your car and give you a tour of a few places so you can get your bearings a little. Also, you need an Israeli sim card and number."
"Sounds good to me," replied Tony, following Adam to the car, wherever that was.
It was not far, and soon they had put Tony's cases in it and were on the road. NCIS had arranged for Tony to collect his apartment key from the US embassy so they went there first; he then gave his new address to Adam and they drove off.
Whoever had decorated the apartment and furnished it clearly had taste: everything was colour-coded, definitely Israeli-style but with distinctly American influences. Tony was pleased to see the large, wall-mounted TV and comfortable-looking sofa. He went into the kitchen area, glad to see that it was fully-equipped. The bedroom was large, with a king-size bed all made up and ready; part of Tony wanted to collapse onto it that very moment, after his long, overnight flight. He stopped himself, instead putting one suitcase on the bed and another by the chest of drawers, next to which Adam placed the third. "Mind if I take a shower? Long flight packed onto a tube of metal with a whole load of people getting all hot and sweaty? Ugh." He pulled a face.
"No problem," Adam assured him. "I will wait in the lounge." He left the room to allow Tony the privacy of revelling in a hot, clean shower.
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It did not take long to get to Adam's, a smart three-bedroom apartment on the edge of Tel Aviv that he shared with one of his sisters, who was an ICU doctor and was working the night shift at the moment so would not be present at the dinner.
On the journey, Tony had a thought and he voiced it. "Do you know what Malachi Ben-Gidon's up to these days?"
Adam snorted. "Everyone in Mossad knows what he is up to these days. He is starting from the bottom and is currently on junior duties."
Surprised by this, Tony blinked and raised his eyebrows. "Who'd he upset? What did he do?"
"Let a protection detail give him the, uh…the…slip, is that the term?"
Tony nodded. "That's pretty harsh."
Adam scowled. "His protection gave him the slip and got all the way to Washington before getting killed by a hired mercenary three years ago."
"He was on Eli David?"
Adam's scowl deepened. "Yes. He is lucky he was not terminated."
Nodding again, Tony let out a low whistle. "I bet. Why wasn't he?"
"Director Elbaz felt it would be more effective a message if other officers had a constant visual reminder of errors. Besides, it is far more humiliating to be returned to the bottom of the pile than simply terminated and forgotten about."
"Can't say I feel sorry for him."
The conversation turned to other topics as they made their way to Adam's and then parked. Tony followed Adam into the apartment building, listening as the other man warned him about the perils of driving in Tel Aviv. The apartment was on the second floor and after so long travelling, Tony was thankful for the presence and use of the lift. As they went down the hall to the apartment, he asked who else was attending; Adam told him that three were work friends and the other two were a married couple whom he had known since high school. They were due to arrive at five; it was four o'clock now.
Without a sound the door opened into the apartment hallway, with a dark wooden floor and pale green walls with delicate curving lines of dark brown that matched the floor. When Tony examined it more closely he realised that the lines were tree branches, some with small blossoms emanating from them, and he commented on the detail.
"Devorah likes to paint," explained Adam. "The ICU is very hard on her mentally; painting helps to ground and calm her." He pointed down the hall. "Make yourself comfortable in the lounge."
Tony did as instructed and made his way to the end and stepped into the living room, which had pale yellow walls and a partially-complete mural; of what, he could not determine. His eyes fell on a woman reading on the couch, head bowed over the book and her back to him. "Hi – uh, shalom," said Tony by way of announcing his presence.
Closing the book and putting it aside, the woman rose from the couch and turned to face him. "Hello, Tony," she replied, face unreadable.
The familiar voice hit him like a deluge of icy water and he found himself rooted to the spot. He blinked rapidly several times. "Uh…Hey. Uh…What are you doing here?" His mouth was dry and his heart began pounding. Was this a dream? Was he hallucinating? Or was it really her?
"Adam invited me. He told me about your new job."
Tony glanced back towards the hall. "If he invited you, I, uh, I guess you two aren't…?"
"Seeing each other? No."
He felt some of the tension leave him. "So, uh, how have you been?"
She shrugged, her dark eyes sad. "I have been OK."
"You cut your hair." He mentally kicked himself for making such an inane comment.
"You do not like it?"
"It looks nice. I'm just not used to it being so short."
"I felt like a change."
He nodded, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I guess I don't know what to say. It's been almost three years."
"I know." Her voice cracked a little and she looked down at the floor. "If you would rather I left –"
"No. Please don't. You've done that too many times."
For once, he found himself unable to read her beyond the almost painful tension radiating from her. "I've missed you."
She nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor as she whispered, "Me too," with a faint crack in her voice.
There were so many things he wanted to say to her, to ask her; they shouted simultaneously at him, drowning each other out. Eventually one of the questions escaped and before he could think about it, he blurted out: "You seeing anyone?" Immediately, he winced. Of all the things he could have asked… "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that."
She lifted her eyes and squinted at him as she cocked her head to one side. "No, I am not seeing anyone."
That declaration was all he needed and heclosed the five-foot gap between them in two strides, put his hand behind her head and pulled her into a long, deep kiss. He felt her respond and he slipped his other hand round her waist into the small of her back.
Ziva was the one to break away and she brought her hand up to caress his cheek, eyes searching his face. "I take it you are not seeing anyone either?" There was a slight teasing note in her voice.
Tony shook his head and when he spoke he was surprised to hear a small waver in his voice. "Tried. Didn't work out. Realised I was trying to make myself settle for someone because I didn't have my soulmate."
She offered him a faint smile. "Still think they are a band from the Seventies?"
Of course she remembers that conversation. "Fine, point taken."
She pulled away and folded her hands together in front of her. "Why did you come? What are you here? And do not say that Vance sent you without discussion because we both know that is not true."
"This conversation sounds familiar – minus being shot full of truth serum, which is a big plus." He saw her tense and avert her eyes, and realised he needed to be serious, to remove any suggestion of a joke from this conversation. It was too important; he made sure his face reflected that. "You remember I once said I couldn't live without you?"
She bit her lip and raised her eyes to his – apprehensive, scared. "How could I forget?"
"I tried. I couldn't. I don't want to. Yeah, I took the job because it's a chance to actually have some sort of career, to have my own team – which isn't something I thought I'd get until Gibbs retired, not after I turned down Rota. But I also took it because I thought I might have a chance to find you again. I'll admit, I figured it would be a lot harder than just coming to dinner at Adam's the day I arrived. Guess I was wrong."
"Adam has his ways."
"Yeah." He shifted form one foot to the other. "So, uh, where do we go from here?"
"That depends. What do you want, Tony? Between us."
"Was I in any way unclear just now?" He really hoped she wasn't going to be infuriating.
She shook her head firmly. "You were the very opposite of unclear." She raised her eyes to meet his and they laid bare her emotions and thoughts in the same way they always had done. "If it is a quick fling, then no, you cannot have it. I have had enough of those and I do not want to be just another notch on your bedpost."
He shook his head. "Nothing like that. I don't do that anymore – I'm not that Tony. I don't want a quick fling either. I've had almost three years without you and I never want anything like that again. I want a proper relationship, something long and serious, with the woman I now know is my soulmate. I'm in this for the long haul, Ziva. No one-night stands, no quick flings, no silly games. Just you and me, serious, long-term and committed." He watched her take this in and contemplate it, holding his breath while he did so in anticipation (and no small amount of fear) of her response.
After a long period of silence, Ziva nodded and met his eyes. "Yes, Tony, I am willing to try." She was smiling, although there was hesitation in her face, fear of being hurt again.
Tony visibly relaxed and he reached out to her, gently caressing her cheek. "So am I."
She stepped forwards and slipped her arms around him, pressing herself close to his body and resting her head on his shoulder, allowing herself to relax as he wrapped his arms around her.
Neither spoke as they stood there soaking up each other's presence. Tony rested his head on hers, calm and content, a strong feeling of peace running through his body.
Eventually footsteps on the wooden floor approached and they broke apart like guilty teenagers just as Adam stepped into the room. His eyes fell upon first Tony, then Ziva, then their subconsciously-entwined hands. He let out one of his deep chuckles. "I see you two did not need much time."
Both blushed. "I, uh…" began Tony, at the same time Ziva stammered out, "He, uh…he…"
"Relax! This is what I hoped for – although I did expect more shouting and arguing," he replied, his eyes sparkling and a grin breaking out on his face.
"You set us up?" spluttered Ziva in indignation, the first to find their voice. She narrowed her eyes at Adam and hissed, "Paperclip!"
Adam arched an eyebrow. "Your father taught me the fourteen ways also; that threat is redundant."
Tony looked at Ziva. "You told me you knew eighteen ways…"
She smirked. "I devised the other four myself."
Adam rolled his eyes. "I find that entirely believable." He glanced at his watch. "We do not have much time before the others arrive. Shall I leave you two to catch up or can I hold you, Ziva, to your promise to help get everything ready?"
"I said I would help so I will," replied Ziva. "What about Tony?"
"I can help," offered Tony, conscious of the fact that Ziva's hand was still in his.
"You have just flown how many thousands of miles? No, I will not hear of it. Make yourself comfortable," Adam told him, pointing towards the sofa.
"I want to help."
"Then help me sort the dining room out," said Ziva. "You can tell me all the news from NCIS."
"Sure, I can do that."
Then let us get on with it," suggested Adam.
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TBC