Author's Note: We are done with Somalia-themed chapters (for now, anyway). The Tiva in this episode is one of my favorites - the whole soulmates thing, the way she grabbed his arm in the car and then didn't let go, the look they exchanged at the end. And poor Sayda.
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Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Do you ever think about soulmates?
Her question comes out of the blue. They were talking about immigrants, and he had just explained his family's immigration experience. He asked if the caramel from his popcorn was stuck in his teeth, in that charming yet boyish way he has, and she replied with, "Nothing sticks to you."
Before he could ask what exactly she meant by that, she sprung her question about soulmates. He hides his confusion by referencing the 70s disco song of the same name.
"You'll never get it," she says, sounding disappointed. He is baffled by her reaction. It was just a joke. Then she walks away, leaving him more confused still. He continues leaning against the vending machine, staring at the doorway through which she disappeared.
He knows her well enough to know that something about this case is getting to her, but he isn't sure what it is. Maybe it is the way it keeps changing. First, they were investigating the lieutenant's death, then the cab driver's. Then a woman shows up, claiming that the dead cab driver is her long-lost husband, but then she says that the dead man they have in autopsy is actually not her husband and now they don't know where he is. It's enough to make his veteran cop head spin. Or maybe it's just because it involves immigrants and maybe she identifies with them, even though, as he pointed out, she isn't technically an immigrant. Or maybe it's something else entirely that hasn't crossed his mind.
Either way, he can't get her question out of his head. Even though they manage to solve their case later that day and there are reports to write up afterward, he keeps thinking about soulmates and why the heck she asked in the first place. He sees her face after the woman, Sayda, tells her supposed soulmate, who had moved on after he thought her dead, that it was okay. He wants to ask her what she thinks about soulmates now, but he keeps his mouth shut and walks past her.
And then he wonders why he keeps thinking about it and why she gets so far under his skin. It gives him a headache, which makes him cranky. Although he sees both Ziva and McGee shooting him looks, he keeps his eyes on his computer screen and pecks grumpily away at his keyboard, determined to finish his report and go home.
Once home, his mood doesn't improve. He stalks around his apartment aimlessly, going into his kitchen then, realizing he has nothing in his fridge except milk and beer, flipping through his stash of takeout menus. Nothing sounds good and he blames Ziva and her stupid introspective questions. He goes next into his bedroom but sleep is far from an option when he is this worked up. Finally, he plops down on the floor in front of his dvd collection and looks for a movie to watch.
After five minutes, he is unable to find an acceptable movie. It dawns on him that the only thing he wants to do is complain to Ziva that this is all her fault. He grabs his keys and heads out.
As soon as she answers her door, he pushes his way past her and into her apartment. "Please, come in," she says sarcastically. There is a yoga mat on the floor of her living room and she is dressed in a sports bra and shorts, her hair up in a high ponytail. He can't keep his eyes off her bare skin and it puts him in a worse mood. Damn the ninja and her honey-colored skin that looks so damned kissable.
Now that he's in front of her, all the angry words he had in his head during his drive over to her apartment abandon him. He stares at her, his jaw clenched, and she merely looks back at him, a puzzled yet amused look on her face. "Are you alright, Tony?" she asks.
Finally, she asks him a question he has the capacity to answer. "No," he growls out.
She is, as usual, not put off by his tone of voice. "So what is your problem?" she asks in that direct way she has. She takes a seat on her couch and gestures for him to sit. He does not.
"Why did you ask me that question?" he asks, glaring at her.
"Which question?" she replies, looking perplexed. As if she doesn't know what she does to him.
He gestures angrily and paces back and forth. "About soulmates. When we were at the vending machine."
A look of realization dawns on her face. "It was just a question," she says slowly. "Sayda said something to me when I was interviewing her and I merely wondered…"
"Did you ask because of Jeanne?" Even saying her name is still painful. For possibly the first time in his life, he thinks that maybe life as a monk wouldn't be so bad. Then these women wouldn't be around to complicate his life.
Her brow furrows. "No," she responds. "I did not have an ulterior motive."
"Hah!" His sudden burst of laughter lacks any humor and she looks a bit startled. "You always have ulterior motives, sweet cheeks."
"I do not." Her voice is defensive. "Can you stop moving around so much?"
He doesn't stop moving. He can't. "Why did you say that I'll never get it? Or that I have to stop forcing things? When do I force things?"
"I see that conversation really annoyed you," she says, raising an eyebrow. "And I have no idea why. I was making little talk."
"Small talk," he corrects automatically.
She waves her hand in dismissal. "Why did it bother you? Why is it still bothering you? The case is over."
He ignores her question when another pops into his head. "For that matter, why did you grab my arm in the car after we talked to the professor the first time?"
"Why won't you answer my question?" she counters.
"Why won't you answer mine?" he says, pointing an accusing finger at her, knowing he is acting like a five year old and not caring.
For a long moment, they stare at each other, neither backing down. As he searches her eyes for any sign of giving in, he thinks about how their relationship is one long game of chess, full of checks, attacks, and trying to anticipate the other's next moves. He wonders if it is as exhausting to her as it is to him. Exhausting but exhilarating, which is why he keeps playing. The only thing he cannot figure out is the endgame. They dodge the questions, make up excuses, bury the truth. He tells himself that they do what they need to do to keep working together. But, in the end, someone is going to knock over the chessboard, end the game with no clear winner.
Finally, he narrows his eyes, gives his head a slight shake. He isn't giving in, won't answer her questions until she answers his. But they can't stand there, trying to stare the other down, while the world continues moving around them. Without another word, he heads toward her door.
Quick as a cat, she jumps up and steps in front of the door, blocking it. "No," she says firmly. "You do not get to come here and accuse me of… something, I do not even know what, and then just leave without any explanation."
He thinks about just picking her up and moving her aside, then remembers that she is a trained assassin. He sighs and offers a proverbial olive branch. "Look, I only asked those things because I was mad. I'm not anymore. Sorry I bothered you."
Now it is her turn to narrow her eyes. "Nice try, Tony. But you are still mad and I will not let you go until you tell me why." As if to punctuate her words, she puts her hands on her hips and holds her head high. Suddenly, he thinks about how beautiful she looks, fiery and stubborn.
Before his brain can catch up, he walks up to her, leans down before she can ask him what he is doing, and kisses her, hard. It is a bruising kiss, his mouth crushed against hers. She arches into him, runs her fingers through his hair. His fingers dig into her bare waist and he pushes her against the door.
His brain eventually catches up and drags him back to his senses. He ends the kiss abruptly by taking a step back. As they both struggle for breath, he manages to growl out, "This. This is why it bugged me so much."
She counters with, "And this is why I asked those questions." They stare at each other again, this time with the weight of their confessions and the searing kiss between them.
This time, she is the one to break the silence. "So now what?" she asks. Her voice sounds apprehensive but he thinks he detects a note of hope in there.
"I figure we have two options," he says. "We can pretend that this never happened and go back to the way things have been. Or we can figure out a way to make this, us, work."
She shakes her head. "I do not want to go back to the way things have been."
He lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Me neither," he confesses. "So we figure out how to make this work."
"Gibbs will be angry." It is not an excuse but a statement.
He shrugs. "You know, I find myself not caring very much. We won't work for him forever but I think if we ignore this thing between us, we'll regret it forever. This won't change our level of professionalism at work."
At this, she chuckles. "I think some people might argue that we are not very professional."
"My point exactly," he says, finally allowing himself to smile in what feels like an eternity. "We'll keep the relationship part of us out of the office. We won't give Gibbs a reason to get mad at us. Other than the usual, that is."
She nods and swallows. "Do you really think we can do this without killing each other?" Her voice is softer and she takes a step toward him.
He steps forward as well so he can lean down to brush her lips with his, kissing her as gently as their last kiss was forceful. "Yeah, I do," he breathes, their noses brushing as he leans his forehead against hers and laces his fingers through hers.
"Okay," she whispers.
They stand there together, breathing in this new reality. He tells himself that this was not what he came here for, but maybe it was. Maybe this was why the case got under her skin, why she kept pushing him. Either way, there is no going back, and he squeezes her hand to convey exactly how sure he is that they will make it.