Author's Notes: Thank you for the feedback for the previous chapters! I found some typos in the last chapter and fixed them.
I was inspired to write this by a Tumblr prompt. I don't have Tumblr myself but man, I love reading all the Tiva blogs.
And on we go with the Somalia. A reminder that this chapter is completely separate from the last one, meaning Truth or Consequences actually happened the way it aired.
The exhaustion sets in as soon as the adrenaline stops flowing, and it finally hits him that she is alive, they are all alive, and Saleem is dead. They are somewhere over the Atlantic, and he can't keep his eyes off of her. She sits next to Gibbs in a jump seat, her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. He thinks that she sleeps through most of the flight, but sometimes she opens her eyes and stares into space with a look in her eyes that makes him want to bring Saleem back to life over and over so he can kill him again and again.
He will not complain about how tired he is. It is worth it. Ziva is alive and he can breathe again. She has been through hell and back, and he can't help but think how beautiful she is.
Gibbs silently stares at the side of the plane through the whole flight, though he occasionally ticks his sharp blue eyes toward Tony. She needs time, his eyes seem to tell him.
Tony steadily meets his gaze and silently says, I'll give her all the time she wants, Boss. He is not going to mess things up again.
When the elevator opens onto the bullpen, people applaud as Gibbs and his team appear, tired but triumphant. Or at least three of the four are. Ziva looks anything but triumphant. A vaguely panicked look crosses her face the the crowd and the noise they make, like she has forgotten what applause is, and Tony wishes everyone would clear out, give her space.
Instead, Abby envelopes her into a big Abby hug and Ziva just stands there, still staring at nothing. Tony sits at his desk, the one he didn't expect to sit at again because he thought he was going to die, and continues watching her. She doesn't seem to notice.
Ducky quickly appears, takes one look at her, and quickly ushers her away so he can examine her and get her away from prying eyes. Tony doesn't see her again that day, although he is told that she is staying with Ducky until she recovers and finds a new apartment. Her old one had been blown to pieces by Mossad. Her father's agency, the one that sent her on a dangerous mission and then left her for dead. Tony hates Eli David more than he has hated anyone in his life.
In a rare move, Gibbs gives them a long weekend. Even though it is Thursday, he tells them to finish up their reports on the Somalia mission and then he'll see them on Monday. Then he stalks out of the bullpen without another word, maybe to go check up on Ziva and Ducky, maybe to go straight to his basement, where his bourbon and boat await.
McGee leaves first, as he usually does, frowning at his screen and typing away until he nods to himself, satisfied, and goes over to the printer to pick up his field report and leave it on Gibbs' desk. Instead of leaving without a backward glance at Tony as he usually does, he stops and says to the senior field agent, "Have a good weekend, Tony."
Tony looks up and replies, "You too, Tim." Friendliness is all he has right now. No snarky comment, no snazzy nickname. He is too tired, both physically and emotionally. After McGee walks out, Tony returns to his report. He types She is alive we found her she's back over and over, and then deletes it. This mission is one that he can't really put into words, at least not in any way that satisfies him. So he writes a generic report devoid of emotion or any of the usual narrative flourishes that simultaneously earn him a chuckle and a head slap from the boss-man.
He leaves out all the things he really wants to say about this mission.
By Saturday afternoon, he doesn't know what to do with himself. More than one day off work is unusual for him and it seems like he was consumed for an eternity by thoughts of leaving Tel Aviv without Ziva, wondering about her, thinking about her being dead and no no it can't be true, and planning out the mission to avenge her death. In reality, it was just weeks. But now he can't remember what he did before. It was a lifetime ago. That Tony is not this Tony.
A baseball game plays on his tv but he wanders away soon after to take yet another shower in an attempt to wash the desert off of him. He wonders when he will stop feeling the grit of sand in his mouth and on his skin. At the same time, the sand reminds him that they found her and she is alive and safe and in the same city as him. He has never been so relieved in his life. Even if she never speaks to him again for killing her boyfriend, he is happy to know that she is breathing.
Still, the thought that she might always hate him dampens his mood and he decides that he needs to get out of his apartment, escape his head. He goes to his local movie theater and buys a ticket for whatever movie starts next. It is a romantic comedy, saccharine and not particularly funny, but he focuses on its many cliches and that gets him out of his head.
He grabs takeout from the Chinese place near his apartment on his walk back. Once home, he decides to stick with the romantic comedy genre and pops in When Harry Met Sally, with Sleepless in Seattle on deck. As he grabs a beer out of the fridge to go with his kung pao chicken, there is a knock on his door. He wonders if he made plans with someone before Somalia and forgot. It would not be the first time. His friends are used to it by now.
He swings the door open, and there she stands. He is so completely taken by surprise that all he can do is stare at her. She gazes steadily back at him for a moment but then looks away, a rare move for her. He can't remember the last time she lost one of their staring contests. This jolts him back to reality, and he opens the door wider and lets her in without a word.
She looks around and says, "You have a nice place." She sounds vaguely surprised and it occurs to him that this is the first time she has seen the inside of his apartment. This is both unusual and not. In the past, they spent plenty of time together outside of work, in bars, bowling with Abby, at her apartment. His apartment is his sanctuary. He rarely brings women here and never for longer than a few minutes.
"Thanks," he replies when he realizes he has been silent for too long. He doesn't know what else to say and for once in his life, his mind can't even come up with anything to ramble about. So he just stands there and looks at her as her eyes flick from object to object in his apartment, taking it all in. She looks freshly scrubbed, as if she has spent hours in the shower trying to remove any trace of her captivity from her skin.
Maybe because she looks like herself again, maybe because it is finally sinking in that she is back, he remembers that he is angry with her. No, angry isn't quite right. He is hurt. Hurt that she would think he would let jealousy cause him to kill anyone or that he went to her apartment that night looking for a fight. Hurt that she didn't trust him after all they had been through together.
So although she clearly would like him to start talking and make it easier for her, he doesn't. He dragged her out of the desert and now the ball is in her court. For a second, he thinks that she might leave without saying anything at all, but then he sees her steel herself and say, "I am sorry, Tony." She takes a deep breath and continues. "I should not have said the things I said in Tel Aviv."
His jaw clenches momentarily as he flashes back to them yelling at each other and then being knocked onto his back, the muzzle of her gun digging into his chest, the sharp pain in his shoulder. And the feeling after she walked away and he lay on his back, looking up at the cloudless Tel Aviv sky. "So why did you?" he asks.
She sighs. "Because I was angry. You were right but I did not want to trust you."
"Why?" He needs to know, although he knows he may be pushing her too much.
"Because everyone I trusted in the past betrayed me. I could not afford to trust you." She is speaking honestly, her face full of sadness. He wavers a little as she continues speaking. "But I should have believed you. And for that, I am sorry."
In his sparsely but tastefully decorated living room, they stare at each other. He nods a little, gives her a half smile. A truce. However, she does not smile back. Her eyes take on an intensity as she says, "I asked you before why you were there."
He blinks, remembers the words that slipped out thanks to the truth serum. Couldn't live without you, I guess. "Yeah, and I told you."
"But why did you go searching for me? At such grave danger to yourself?"
"My answer's still the same. I couldn't lie then, remember?" He is baffled by what she is asking.
She sighs, agitated. "Of course you can live without me. You do not need me to breathe or for your brain to work or your heart to beat. That is not an answer." The tone of her voice escalates into demanding. "I was ready to die. My father left me for dead and you should have, too. My life was not worth the risk."
He scowls at her, annoyed at how little she regards herself. "Of course it is. I would do it again in a heartbeat," he responds heatedly. "And your father is an asshole for leaving you!"
At the insult to her father, her eyes narrow but she stays focused on the crux of her question. "Why, Tony? Why did you go to Somalia?"
"Because I love you!" The words slip out before his brain can catch up to his mouth and stop him. Well, she wants the truth and there it is.
Her mouth is hangs open, shocked at his words, and the anger visibly leaves her body. Inappropriately, a joke about catching flies in her mouth springs to mind. He is able to shut it down before he says the joke out loud. He waits for her response, determined not to say anything until she does. The ball, again, is in her court.
She closes her mouth and seems to hesitate, just a little, before walking over to him and, standing on tiptoe, brushing her lips over his lightly. His hands automatically go to her waist, pulling her in a bit closer to him. She resists a little, rocking back onto her heels. "I…" she starts, then closes her mouth. Swallows. Starts again. "I need time, Tony," she says, softly.
His eyes search her face for any clue into what she is thinking. Her eyes still look sad, but instead of the haunted look behind them, he sees something else. Hope, he thinks, and a spark of life. And in that moment, he knows they will be okay again.