"I think McGee suspects something," Tony blurted out. His eyes remained fixed on the television, as the low hum of 'We're Off To See The Wizard' echoed through the apartment; and Ziva lay with her head in his lap, his fingers softly playing with her hair.
"What?" she asked, turning her head to look up at him. He dropped a kiss to her forehead.
"I mean, I don't think he suspects that it's you, but he knows something is different," he explained. "I practically got interrogated about our date."
She bit her lip. "And what did you tell him?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" she repeated back to him, surprised. "No wonder he thinks something is up."
Tony's brows crinkled. "What do you mean?"
She sighed, sitting up to face him. "Tony, for years you have been on dates, and all you have done the morning after is tell us about how well they went or not. You complain about things that put you off, or you boast about how good she was in bed," Ziva paused, watching as he cringed at her words. "If you were in McGee's position, would you not think it was weird for you to suddenly stopped going that?"
"I would probably raise my eyebrows at myself, sure," he nodded.
"Exactly. If you were investigating a case where a suspect had a routine, and then all of a sudden changed that routine out of the blue, you would be questioning that suspect as to why and what happened to cause them to drastically alter their behaviour?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Is this what dating you is going be like - you making excellent, logical points?"
She laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before laying back in his lap; his fingertips continuing to softly storke her hair. "So," he continued, "what do I do?"
"Well," she replied, "you want to keep us a secret for now, yes?"
"Mhmm," he hummed in agreement. "I would like to keep this to ourselves for a little while longer."
"Then," she replied, "you do what is necessary to not draw any unnecessary attention to us. You act normally, as you have always done."
"I don't know if I can, Ziva," he admitted. "I mean, this isn't just me talking about anyone... it's you. Can you imagine how weird it will be when McGee does find out, and I've told him about how I've given you multiple orgasms?
Ziva sighed, with a small laugh. "You do not have to go into depth about our dates or our sex life, Tony," she replied, "but if they ask you questions, just answer as honestly as you can without being specific."
"So, do the opposite of rule seven?"
"No," she gently shook her head. "You're not lying. You're just... bending the truth a little. We all do it from time time, when we must."
"Like when you asked me why I was there, rescuing you from Somalia, and I told you I couldn't live without you, instead of proclaiming the full truth which was that I was so in love with you that nothing in my life was meaningless without you there?"
She swallowed, hard, her mouth parting in surprise.
"Tony, why are you here?" she questioned, her throat barren of moisture from the desert climate.
She took note of the look in his eyes, and the way his body writhed, fighting every instinct to say the words on the tip of his tongue, whatever they might be.
"Couldn't live without you, I guess."
"Yes," she responded, her voice barely a whisper, "something like that."
She brushed her teeth, staring at her reflection in the mirror; her eyes trailing over her features. In some ways, she hardly recognised the woman staring back at her - the former assassin carrying the baby of the love of her life, who also happened to be her best friend, her greatest confidante, and the person whom she trusted most in the world. And yet, as she stared into her own eyes, she saw the woman who had left DC and refused to return with him when he found her, in order to atone for her sins and wipe the slate clean. A woman suspended in the thin veil between the past, the present, and the ambivalent future.
As she spat out her toothpaste, Tony's words echoed in her ears. When I told you I couldn't live without you... so in love with you... life was meaningless...
She knew Tony loved her, and had known for longer than she had been prepared to admit to herself, but the revelation at just how long he had loved her, had taken her by surprise.
"Are you okay?" he asked, as she silently padded into the bedroom, her eyes staring at her toes, and her complexion far more ashen than it had been earlier in the evening. "You've hardly been able to look at me. Have I done something wrong?"
She shook her head. "Not at all," she replied, unbuttoning her jeans, which were slowly becoming too small for her, and pulling on his Ohio State t-shirt that she had now claimed as her own. "I am just... thinking."
"About?"
She bit her lip. "What you said earlier."
"McGee giving me the third degree?"
She shook her head again. "Saleem. Somalia."
"Oh," he replied, placing his phone down on the bedside table. He bit his lip, casting his eyes over her. "Would you like to talk about it?"
She turned to face him, their eyes meeting. At the time, they hadn't discussed what had happened to her, though Tony had tried his best to gently encourage her to open up, despite knowing he would be met with stony silence or resistence (but he understood, and never pressed it). And, they hadn't approached the subject in any of the years since - not even with the post-elevator them, who were the most open and honest versions of themselves that they had ever been towards each other. For Tony, he worried that it would prise open wounds she had tried so hard to sew shut; of things she would rather forget. For Ziva, she worried that if she told him what had actually happened to her, he would no longer see her for who she was; that in his eyes, it would eclipse every other part of her.
"You don't have to-"
"I was prepared to die," she said, her voice tiny and weak. "I wanted to die." His heart sank into his stomach, the bile rising in his throat, and he sucked in a sharp breath. For a second, he contemplated reaching out and touching her, but something inside him told him that now was not the time. "For weeks, I had known only darkness. I had lost count of the horrors I endured."
She came to sit at the end of the bed, staring at the floor. She couldn't look ay him, for she couldn't bear to watch the expression on his face - of sadness, hurt, and pity. All it would take would be one glance at him, and she would entirely fall apart. "When Saleem lifted the hood, the light spilled in... and I saw you, my friend, sitting there." Her voice cracked as a tear slipped down her cheek. "My heart saw you as if for the first time, and I knew I could not live without you."
She exhaled and raised her head, to find him looking at her with tears in his eyes; though she knew he would muster every ounce of strength he had not to let them fall. Minutes, or perhaps hours passed, before he spoke, his voice low and small to match her own. "I'm sorry, Ziva."
She shook her head, her cheeks suddenly wet as the tears trickled down her face. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she said. "You saved me, in all the ways a person can possibly save someone else."
His eyes softened as he gazed at her. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that such terrible things had happened to her; for when he looked at her, he saw nothing but the sun. And yet, there was a quiet darkness buried in her soul, that she had yet to part with. Perhaps, someday, she would trust him enough to share what had happened to her; to confide in him with the confidence that he wouldn't see her differently, and would protect her truth with his entire being.
She wiped her eyes before crawling beneath the covers and curling herself into his body; his arms coming to wrap tightly around her. He pressed a kiss to her hair, allowing his lips to linger before he dropped them close to her ear.
"If I could drag her back, I would do it in a heartbeat."
"What?" she whispered, confused.
"That's what I told Saleem before you were sitting in front of me in that chair," he paused. "You know, I didn't think it was possible for a heart to physically ache with the absence of somebody. But then you left me... twice, and both times, I've been struck with this deep, crushing ache in my chest, so severe I could barely breathe." He heard her sniffle, and he let his hands trace comforting circles over her abdomen. "I never really understood what people meant when they said their heart beat for somebody, but I think understand it now." He bit his lip; the corners of his lips turning up into the faintest smile. "Call me corny as hell for saying this, but mine beats for you, Ziva. Without you, I'm nothing."
The lump caught in her throat and she struggled to swallow, overwhelmed by his words. Unable to do anything else, she tilted her head back to kiss him, slowly and lovingly.