#at least he knew Ziva was alive before he passed

[hay-389]

Alright, nothing can top the fact that we are getting Ziva and Tony back on our screens together, like an actual couple, with their daughter!!!

This is the best news we’ve had in 4 years. 😭

#like… what? #I saw the article pop up as I was RESTARTING MY COMPUTER #the agony I felt in those 5 minutes of waiting for it to reboot so I could make sure what I saw was accurate was torture #oh gosh #the only thing missing is ducky 😭😭😭 #and my grandpa #if only he could see this #at least he knew Ziva was alive before he passed #ncis #ncis fandom #ncis verse #ziva david #tony dinozzo #anthony dinozzo #tiva #tony x ziva #tony and ziva

[indestinatus]

Yellow Brick Road

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 17

↳ prompt: Scarecrow - rated T (1,726 words)

summary: Alone in the hideout from Sahar, Ziva finds herself doing something she didn’t expect, which brings back memories from the past. 

A/N: also known as - if you chose to read one story of this whole series, please let this be the one.

read it on AO3 🌾

Heavy rain poured down on the gray tiles of the sidewalk. There was enough water on the street to reflect the blurry traffic lights and undefined skylines, at least until a car passed by and splashed it all over the closed stores. Umbrellas piled up in front of a popular restaurant and some moved across the street, but Ziva’s vision was out of focus enough to only distinguish them as blurs of color, disappearing quickly.

It had been hours since she had passed the point of tiredness, now breathing only out of instinct. Her eyelids burned but she kept them open, watching the skies fall. 

It was rare for her to need a break like this, though it was turning even more frequent these days. She could only track Sahar down for so long - with just a name, the mysterious woman quickly vanished only to reappear again in another city a few weeks later - and after so many failed attempts of getting to her, Ziva decided to wait until they came to her instead. 

That usually didn’t take long. 

A taxi stopped just in front of her and a man rushed to open the door, motioning for a woman just behind him to enter ahead. She did so hurriedly, holding what looked like the man’s suit over her head as she disappeared into the backseat of the car. 

A second later, the man did the same, hastily running a hand through his wet hair before disappearing. Ziva thought she saw him smile to himself, but the car sped up and she lost track of them before she could confirm. 

Two strangers she would never see again, nor hear the end of their story. 

She didn’t really process how or why, but suddenly she found her reflection staring back at her, heavy bags under her eyes and hair dripping wet. Ziva blinked, realizing she had crossed the street and now stood in front of the glass door she’d been watching from the opposite side all evening.

Before she could change her mind, Ziva’s hands moved on their own accord and pulled the door open. Blaming the tiredness for her poor choices, she stepped into the movie theater, searching for the ticket booth.

The air conditioning of the room made her soaked clothes feel cold. She picked a spot near the exit, blending into the shadows. In a second she had memorized all viable routes of escape, but it had been more out of habit than from a real necessity. 

Her heart was in her throat when the main title started to play. It was this loud melody with a classic tune to it, the high notes revealing the passage of time. As the title appeared, nostalgia burned in her chest. It had been too long since she’d last seen it, way too long.

“I thought this was a colored one.”

“Do you really want me to spoil it to you, woman?”

“I’ve read the book, you know.”

“Then how come you always manage to quote it wrong?”

“How do you know they’re the right lines? Perhaps they’re different in the book.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Yes. Exactly. You would not know.”

“Don’t brag now. You’re the one who hasn't seen a movie that’s seventy years old.”

“I had other things to do.”

“That’s older than Gibbs.”

“That’s older than you.”

“Miss David. You hurt me this way.”

“Shush. It’s about to start.”

“You… Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Hm… Doesn’t she die?”

“You’ll have to watch and see.”

It knocked the breath out of her. She already knew it was coming, but the sudden change from sepia to technicolor was still a marvelous thing to see. Bright colors invited the viewer to enter this brand new world, and Ziva let herself get lost in the songs and the details. 

The room was almost empty, some people scattered across the rows ahead. She wondered if they had seen this movie before. Probably, considering how old it was. Though she knew the story by heart, it was because she’d read the book a dozen times while growing up, it being a classic in her mother’s personal library. 

He had teased her the whole day when he discovered she’d never watched it. She remembered it clearly—quoting lines and singing lyrics, he’d succeeded in driving her crazy enough for her to give in, which led to them renting a DVD copy on a free Friday night. She brought the beers and he led the place, the one between them who had a television at home. 

Tony’s selective memory always surprised her, though his insistence in getting under her skin was a force on its own. He would bug her until he got what he wanted, and she was used to it—most times great at fighting back—but some days she just wanted to give in and see that typical smile of his, the one that stretched over his face until the corners of his eyes got wrinkled. 

She could picture it so clearly, the image still imprinted under her eyelids.

It was a memory she visited often, that day. It had been one of those moments no one could know it would become a memory until it did. Their laughter, the sureness of safety and the genuine feeling of happiness were things that still warmed her heart, whenever she thought of it. They were so young and worry-free, she always felt a sting of regret for not cherishing the moment more when it was happening. 

Dorothy reached a crossroad, unsure of which path to go next. When the Scarecrow changed the arm that pointed where to go, some people chuckled, and Ziva smiled weakly. He had always been her favorite one of the group. There was something really endearing about his clumsiness and care. He was smarter than he would ever know, and it was a charming quality she rarely saw in people.

“How can you talk if you haven’t got a brain?” quizzed Dorothy, tilting her head.  

“I don’t know,” replied the Scarecrow. “But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don't you think?”

“Yes!”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah… Right.”

“What? It’s true. Plus, he’s cute.”

“He’s a scarecrow.”

“So…?”

“Don’t tell me you’re turned on by a scarecrow.”

“I did not say I was ‘turned on’. You are wiggling my words.”

“Twisting.”

“I thought it had been a twister.”

“Just… Watch. See? Now your scarecrow is also part of the narrative.”

“I like him.”

“Sometimes I just can’t respect you.”

“He talks a lot.”

“You say that to me all the time!”

“Well, you do talk a lot.”

“Are you admitting to like me, David?”

“I will call Ducky right away. We finally solved it - your brain is there, only it is made out of straw.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Hm.”

Ziva felt her heart clench when the thought of Tony showing it to Tali crossed her mind. Had he done the same? Was he excited over little details and quoted its famous lines just like he did with her? Or did it remind him of them? Did they ever get the chance to watch it together or he avoided it? She certainly stared at the movie theater marquise for hours before she gave in, the tiredness making her too vulnerable. 

She missed him so much her bones ached from it. 

Ziva wondered if she would ever feel the same again. That flickering in her chest whenever they spoke in riddles, both of them catching each other’s stolen glances more frequently than not. They had always been good in sharing non-verbal cues, and even if they bickered until one of them got tired, the silence was the one thing she missed the most. 

To be able to be understood like that by someone else, it was the closest she had ever been to love.

“Oh,” confided Dorothy to the Scarecrow, “I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, saying goodbye. Both of them were too emotional to say anything else, Dorothy wiping the tears with her hand and him giving her a sad smile. There was something incredibly bittersweet to have known it would have come to this all along. 

Ziva struggled to breathe. She didn’t recall when exactly she had started crying, but she couldn’t see a thing now. There were only blurs. 

She tried to remember the last time she did cry. Her chest ached from keeping it silent, the loud beating of her heart the only thing she could hear. She knew it would happen as soon as she bought that ticket, but there was something quite soothing about being in a dark room where no one else knew her. 

She could finally be free, even if for a brief moment.

Ziva stood up before the credits started rolling. Hastily wiping the tears from her face, she exited to the street, hoping for once that she was really invisible, and no one would approach her now. 

The rain had stopped. It was much darker now, though the street lights seemed brighter. The line of people outside of the restaurant had disappeared, probably already inside. Some taxis were available at the other side of the street, but she preferred walking. She couldn’t take any risks now, knowing she could quickly become the prey. 

Ziva looked up to the sky, clenching her jaw. Letting the cold air inundate her lungs, she tried to ease her breathing. Tony and Tali were somewhere safe, far away from there, but at least they were under the very same sky. She wondered if it was raining there. She wondered if they were okay. 

Closing her eyes, she pictured them again. Happy. She needed them happy, even if it meant they had found happiness without her. There was no other way to keep her going, other than to imagine them alive. Even if it looked like nothing more than a dream, she needed them there, safe, tucked away in her heart.

When Ziva opened her eyes again, the sadness had already been buried. 

With Dorothy’s words still ringing in her mind, she ducked her head, following the gray brick road into an adjacent alleyway. 

There is no place like home, she had said. 

And wishing for nothing more than a pair of ruby slippers, Ziva David disappeared into the shadows. 

#ncis #tiva #tiva fanfiction #tivatober2020 #once upon a halloween #my fics #this is by far the one story i'm proudest of #so pls give it a read if you can! <3

[loudlooks]

Rude Awakening

Wrote this well over a year ago, I blame @gingerstorm101 for putting this thought in my head back then. 

Angst, Truth or Consequences.

Also on FF and AO3

Word count: 1281

Taking in the dirty, baggy clothes of the prisoner roughly pushed onto the chair in front of him, Tony struggled to focus on the here and now. He needed to keep his wits about him, make sure that, at the very least, McGee made it out of here alive. The truth serum was wreaking havoc on his mind, and when Saleem pulled the bag from the prisoner’s head, reality became even more warped.

His sanity hung on by a thread, engaged in a conversation he could barely follow with the ghost of the woman whose death had led him to this hellhole—the woman now sitting in front of him, close enough to touch if he hadn’t been tied to a chair. Ziva David wasn’t dead and nothing made sense…except for the need to get her out of there…alive.

He struggled to focus on her face—smudged, bruised, pale. Her eyes, dead but with the flicker of fight when his mouth said something about a plan—what plan, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he was sure it sounded better back when life had no meaning and survival wasn’t exactly a priority.

Focus, fight the chemical cloud taking over your mind, save her.

Her hair, loose and curly, the way he liked it best, except…not like this, dirty and brittle, with what looked like dried blood in the strands that disappeared underneath her shirt collar.

He frowned, licked his cracked lips with a parched tongue. There was something very wrong with this picture, he simply couldn’t put his finger on it. But then there was a knife against her throat and his heart stopped and then a bullet stopped Saleem and it wasn’t until they were safely in a chopper, flying over an endless sea of sand that seemed to have gotten into his very soul, that that tingle of a thought came back.

A prick in his arm, words spoken by a medic but unheard over the sound of the rotors. Inhaling deeply he avoided looking at the stretcher the medic once again turned his attention to. The stretcher that held the husk of what was once his partner. His friend. The woman who had—he had realized too late—a vice like grip on his heart and soul.

From the corner of his eye he watched the medic guide Ziva into a sitting position. She went willingly, sitting there like a rag doll almost, not slapping away strange hands that kept touching her everywhere checking for injuries, no threats of bodily harm that used to flow so easily from her lips. He wondered briefly whether the cocktail Saleem had shot him up with had made him hallucinate Ziva’s face on some random female prisoner’s, because there was no way the Ziva he knew would let anyone touch her without a fight.

When the medic carefully removed her shirt, new and old scars became visible. His vision blurred. He turned away, grabbed a paper bag, and threw up whatever was left in his stomach.

A blur of uniformed men and women. Cold, wet towels. A bottle of water that upset his stomach, again. Loud, urgent voices. The smell of hospital, none of the bright lights and shiny surfaces, though. Ziva leaving his sight. His body and mind felt like imploding. A warm, rough hand on his shoulder, kind voice in his ear, steel blue eyes full of understanding.

He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, preparing himself for a long flight home. For mending a relationship he had given up on, but that hopefully wasn’t broken beyond repair.

Once on the plane that would take them home, Gibbs buckled her in on the seat next to him. Her presence, so close after so long apart, invaded every fiber of his being. He wanted to touch her, prove to himself that this wasn’t a mirage, wasn’t another dream, another nightmare.

She stared straight ahead, slight confusion etched on her face, her hair still a tangled mess, once again trapped below the collar of her shirt.

He shifted in his seat to get a better look at her. She didn’t seem to notice him, or Gibbs and McGee sitting across from her. Occasionally her eyes would narrow, and he was grateful she seemed to have snapped out of the catatonic state she appeared to be in on the chopper, when the medic had removed her shirt.

The collar of her shirt.

He blinked, clarity slowly returning to his mind thanks to whatever the doctor had given him. Not quite clear enough to figure out what was bothering him about her shirt, though.

His eyes drifted to her hair once more. Memories of running his hands through those soft strands a lifetime ago, rose up along with bile from his now empty stomach. That Ziva would have made a lewd comment about him staring at her. She had, in fact, back when he had watched her get dressed, slowly buttoning her shirt while smirking at him, then raising her hands and flicking her hair from underneath the shirt collar in a vision of grace and sensuality forever seared into his brain.

Something obvious and nauseating was fighting to the forefront of his mind. Absentmindedly he grabbed one of the paper bags the medic had given him with a tight-lipped smile and a “trust me, you’re gonna need them”.

He fought the fog and the nausea, focused on the texture of the paper underneath his fingertips, on her hair disappearing beneath her collar.

Trapped there.

Unable to escape ever since the medic had dressed her.

He raised his free hand, intent on releasing the curls from their cotton prison, vaguely hoping it would set her mind free as well, knowing full well it wouldn’t.

Instead, realization hit him like a ton of bricks. His hand felt like lead and he dropped it to his leg. Suddenly clammy and dizzy, he dry heaved, raised the paper bag to his mouth as images flooded his mind.

Images of endless torture and pain. Of blood and broken bones. Of Ziva’s naked body being roughly dressed by the monsters that had kept her alive for one reason only.

A sob left his lips as tears sprang to his eyes at the horrors she must have endured.

No wonder she was ready to die.

The fury and anguish he felt—at what they had done to her, at how easily Saleem had gotten away with everything, a simple bullet to the head—were multiplied by the leftover chemicals now making his blood boil. His fingers dug into his leg, trying to get a grip for Ziva’s sake, not knowing if she was even aware of her surroundings. Of him.

He tried to breathe in deeply but seemed to choke on the hot, stuffy air in the airplane as he wondered why they had even bothered to dress her before dragging her into his cell. Had they thought he would have been more cooperative if it looked like they had treated her well?

Something between a scoff and another sob left his lips, cold, boney fingers wrapped around his own.

His breath hitched, he blinked rapidly trying to rid his eyes of tears that hadn’t fallen. He couldn’t face her like this. Her fingers squeezed his, barely noticeably, and when he finally met her eyes it was like a breath of fresh air.

“It will pass,” she said softly with knowing eyes.

Unsure whether she was talking about the nausea, the images flashing before his eyes, or the nightmares she had endured, and probably would for a long time to come, he wrapped his hand around hers gently.

The faint flicker in her eyes sparked the embers of hope that had died when Gibbs had uttered the words “no survivors”.

#tiva fanfiction #tiva #my fanfiction #i don't know how i feel about this #which is why i didn't post it back when i wrote it #didn't know how to finish it either #so there's that

[andipxndy-writes]

holiday mishaps (part 5)

fandom: alex rider x ncis [crossover] warnings: mentions of blood, typical ncis stuff requested by: @lilcoffeecup word count: 5.9k

cross posted to ao3

summary: Alex Rider just wanted a relaxing holiday, somewhere where he could relax without any trouble cropping up. And with Jack and her family, he almost got that. ALMOST. And then he had to go and take a midnight walk. On the other hand... Ziva David swears she recognises the fair-haired witness to their murder case.

holiday mishaps

As soon as they got back to the mall, Alex’s plan was running through his mind. Of course, he’d shared a plan with the agents, and another with Ziva, but he had his own plan that didn’t involve anyone else. A sort of backup of a backup, of sorts. He knew his own skillset, and the kind of havoc he could cause that wouldn’t exactly be legal. Which was why it was something he didn’t plan on letting any of the agents get involved in.

The eldest agent, Agent Gibbs, genuinely surprised him by pulling him to the side. He’d thought that the man was far too stoic and serious to actually give any sort of motivational talk, and if anyone would pull him off to the side to either speak sense into him or clarify plans it would be that Agent Ziva — she had more of an idea of what kind of thing he was planning on getting into. He wouldn’t even be surprised if it turned out that she’d worked out who exactly he was and decided to go ahead and stop him before multiple agencies got pulled into this mess — having the whole alphabet of agencies from multiple countries would not be good for anyone, and it would be even worse for whoever had decided to kidnap Jack. Because there was no way he was going to let MI6 let someone off for kidnapping Jack again. It had been traumatic enough the first time.

“What exactly are you planning?” Gibbs asked lowly — just about lowly enough for his agents to not be able to overhear the conversation. He knew how nosy Tony and Ziva could be. This conversation wasn’t for them.

Alex scowled at Gibbs, pursing his lips. “Whoever has Jack is getting away and is waiting for us on the roof of this building, and you want to pull me aside to ask about the plan we’ve already discussed?” The look Gibbs gave him told Alex that he didn’t believe whatever bullshit the teen had clearly just pulled out of his ass. Alex, however, didn’t say anything further until the look Gibbs was giving him really started to get to him, which he didn’t expect to happen at all. He glanced down at his feet for a few moments before back up at Gibbs.

“Okay… maybe I’m planning something stupid…?” Alex offered weakly, getting the feeling that if he didn’t spill this man would find a way of getting information on what exactly Alex was going to do. He probably wouldn’t even be getting the information from Alex himself — Ziva was one of his agents, she would probably give up the information willingly if Gibbs asked her.

The look on Gibbs’ face changed from mild disbelief to unsurprised and unimpressed. As if that answer was something he expected, but still wasn’t something that he had wanted to hear. A stupid plan like what Alex was planning, even if Gibbs didn’t know what Alex was planning exactly, was bound to get him into trouble. In fact, Alex was relying on his typical luck of the devil to get him out of the situation alive (not necessarily uninjured).

“I promise, I’ll be fine,” Alex said, trying to convince himself more than Gibbs if he was being honest. He knew that he had to be fine, for Jack at least. She would probably kill him if he got injured in any way. But then, Gibbs was still looking at him in a way that showed mild concern and frustration at the fact that Alex had tried to pull off a stupid plan without warning anyone else first, and Alex felt the need to try and convince him more. He almost felt as if he was talking to and trying to convince Jack, not a federal agent he’d only spoken to a handful of times. “I will. I’m just… I need to do some of this my own way. If you guys knew about what I could do, then you’d risk getting in trouble. You guys are better off being unaware of what’s going on, because of plausible deniability.”

“I know why you’re doing it,” Gibbs answered simply. “I still think it’s stupid. And unsafe.”

Alex tried to cover up the little bit of sentiment he felt at the concern. It couldn’t be genuine. The man barely knew him. “I didn’t even try to say that it was a smart plan.”

“By stupid, I mean—”

“I’m not going to not do it.” That was Alex’s one thing. He wasn’t just going to follow the plan of anyone else — he already had his own plan in mind. His whole reason for asking for Ziva’s help originally was because he had a feeling she would understand him needing to do certain things to get the job done. This Agent Gibbs guy probably wouldn’t. And even if he did, there was no point asking to see if he would just in case.

The man, Agent Gibbs… he didn’t say anything. Alex felt as if he could see that the man knew what Alex was going to do, what Alex wanted to do, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at Alex for a few moments, as if he was thinking of what to say, before eventually he just gave a nod. Alex wasn’t sure whether that nod meant he was okay-ing whatever he had planned to do, or was just relenting to the fact that Alex was going to do something whether he liked it or not, but he was taking it. He was just about to turn and head back to the other agents to speak with them and maybe get the show on the road when he heard Gibbs speak again.

“Be careful.”

He was genuinely surprised when he heard those words uttered softly to him. No one had really said those to him before. No one other than Jack, maybe. Not many people he worked with actually cared about whether he ended up injuring himself or not — just as long as he got the job done. And he could tell that Gibbs saw that he was surprised, because suddenly the man was cracking him a wry smile. As if he kind of knew that Alex had never really heard those words before, or at least that he wasn’t expecting those words to come from him.

“What, no one ever reminded you of the dangers of running headlong into a possible gunfight?” The words were sarcastic, and were definitely not anything that Alex expected from the man from what he’d seen of him before. If anything, they were almost friendly, and made Alex crack a smile.

“No, I usually anticipate from previous experiences,” the teen responded, before patting the bulletproof vest the agents had given him in the car on their way back to the mall. “Make sure they aim for the chest, and not the head. You know. The usual kind of common sense thing.”

Gibbs was still staring at him, a smirk on his face now, and Alex wished that he knew what the older man was thinking. What was making him smile at Alex so much? Was he just smiling, or was he hiding laughter as well? And why at Alex?

“Just make sure you come out of this alive,” Gibbs pointed out. “That guardian of yours is a fiery one.”

“How can you tell?” Alex asked sarcastically. It was pretty obvious that Jack was fiery — anyone who hadn’t realised that after meeting her was delusional, in Alex’s opinion.

“The hair.” Now Gibbs was moving to head past Alex and over to his agents. “When you marry more than one, you get to realise the typical redhead traits.”

Alex’s eyes widened as Gibbs passed him with a pat on the shoulder, certainly not expecting that tidbit of information. He’d married more than one redhead? “How are you even alive?” Alex murmured. He couldn’t even imagine living with more than one Jack in the house. One fiery redheaded woman was more than enough for him.

Though, if he ended up marrying one he would definitely take it back. He’d have to, after all.

He thought he heard a small chuckle come from the man as he passed, but when he turned to see him all he saw was the man’s serious expression as he and his agents prepared to head up to the roof with him. The teen continued to watch the man as he gave his agents instructions, a curious expression on his face.

Agent Gibbs was a curious one, he really was. But Alex was glad that he hadn’t had the time to get to know him better, because that would have meant that he’d have spent a lot of time with NCIS… and he was happy enough with the minimal time he’d spent with them. If anything, he would have preferred not to get involved with any federal agencies.

Ah well, he couldn’t have things his way all the time.

“Hey!”

Alex blinked a few times when he realised he was being called, and refocused to find that Gibbs was beckoning him over. He shifted the vest on his chest a little to make himself a little more comfortable, before heading over to go over the last bits of the plan with the other agents. Well, at least, the last bits of the plan they as a team knew about.

***

Sat against the door to the stairwell, Alex took a deep breath. He knew he was meant to be meeting whoever it was that had Jack out there in about five minutes, but now he was feeling the nerves building up. He had been in a lot of hostage situations before, he had helped and solved a lot of them before. He wasn’t a stranger to them. But he couldn’t recall the last one he’d been in where Jack was the one he was trying to save (and not just one person amongst a class of other victims). His whole livelihood was riding on him being able to save Jack — because if he didn’t save her, he didn’t know what he’d do. He’d have no guardian to take him back home and take care of him, and he definitely didn’t want that.

It shot his nerves through the roof.

“Hey.” Alex looked over when he heard Ziva hissing at him. He didn’t miss the gun she held, ready to use at a moment’s notice if anything went wrong but safety still on. (He, of course, didn’t even try to ask for a gun because he was still a minor in their eyes.) “You know that you will save her, right?”

He didn’t want to be cocky and say that he knew, because part of him did know that he could and would be able to save Jack if he really tried. But there was still that small part of him that doubted that he could do it, and do it smoothly. It would be far too easy for him to hurt—

“Yes,” he answered, cutting off his thoughts before they could spiral. He didn’t need that right now. “Yeah, I know. She’ll be fine. We can get her to safety.” He gave Ziva a half-smile as he took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. And then he pushed himself to his feet, ready to get things over and done with. And hopefully he could go home at the end of the day with Jack. Hopefully.

“I’m here,” Alex announced as he stepped out into the open space of the roof, stretching his arms out theatrically. Mask on, acting activated. “Where are you? Can’t have me out here on this roof alone, can we? That’s not our deal, and you know it.”

It took a few moments, but eventually there were some footsteps and some arguing from behind one of the many vents up on the roof, and three figures appeared in front of Alex. One of them, the most vocal, was a redhead and obviously Jack. It had to be her. There was no one else she could be mistaken for. She was, of course, being restrained and pulled along by one man, whilst another walked ahead of the two with his hands in his pockets, a small grin on his face.

“Ah, so you did decide to turn up.” The man at the front looked stupidly smug — to the point that Alex was fully prepared to roundhouse kick that smug look right off his face. He thought he was doing pretty well at restraining himself. “It’s lovely to properly meet you, Mr Rider.”

“A shame I can’t say the same about you.” It wasn’t really a shame to Alex, but he said it out of courtesy.

Whether or not the man believed him, he simply gave Alex a wry smile at the comment. “Well, regardless of the circumstances, we’re here. Have you sorted out what we agreed on?”

Alex glanced over his shoulder at Ziva, who shifted to stand in plain sight behind him. As, you know, evidence that there were actually federal agents there and that federal officers had got involved in the whole thing. And then he turned back to Rossi. “It’s sorted. Specially for you.” Of course, the second sentence was said with a slight tone of sarcasm that he doubted the man would catch. “There are some requirements, though.”

There was a frown on Rossi’s face. “That was not part of the agreement we made—”

“Well I can’t exactly let a drug dealer get away scot-free, can I?”

There was a moment where Alex didn’t know how the man was going to react, where everything was still for a tense few seconds. And then suddenly things all moved at once. Alex wasn’t exactly sure how, but somehow Jack ended up in the middle, between the two groups, with a gun pointed at her head. Ziva was stood slightly behind Alex now, her gun raised and pointed at the drug dealer, but Alex had a gun pointed at him. Three guns, and two of them were against him. Granted, he knew that Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo were somewhere on that roof, hiding and ready to shoot if necessary, but it had turned into a situation where he really wished he had a gun of his own. That would have solved this whole problem a lot faster.

“Now, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say, was it?” It was Rossi who had Jack now, holding onto her tightly despite her struggling, gun with the safety off pointed at her neck. A threat, and most likely an empty one, considering Alex knew that if the man wanted Jack dead he’d have the gun pointed at her face or temple and probably would have done it by then.

Alex wanted to shrug, give another sarcastic comment, but he knew that there was a gun pointed at him and that all it took was a little twitch of the man’s lackey’s finger and he would be bleeding. Probably in the leg, since no one with sanity would actually want to injure a child, no matter what they could or couldn’t do. Plus, he was wearing a bulletproof vest. So instead he just stared blankly at them, waiting to see what would be interpreted from his stony expression.

The drug dealer chuckled at Alex’s lack of response, digging the barrel of his gun into Jack’s neck a little more before nodding his head towards the agent stood with him. “Make her put her gun down.”

Alex wasn’t all too fond of how the guy was talking through him to get to Ziva, but it turned out that he didn’t even need to turn to talk to her. Seconds later he could hear her placing her gun on the ground beside her.

“Good. Now,” Alex could see the pressure of the gun barrel on Jack’s neck loosen a little, though that didn’t lessen the fear in her eyes. “Do you have what I asked for? We did, after all, make an agreement.”

The teen continued to stare for a few moments, before he moved to reach into his pocket and pull out a set of car keys. “The vehicle is sat in a warehouse a couple of miles from here. The address is exactly where you asked for it to be. In the car is the address for the location of the helicopter for you to put into your SatNav, and then you'll be free.” Well… not exactly, but the guy didn’t need to know that.

As it was, he watched Alex with suspicion for a few moments before he said anything. “No tricks, Rider. I’ve heard of what you’re like.” He pressed the gun into Jack’s neck again. “This one is only free when I am. She’s coming with me to the car, and you can pick her up from there after an hour.”

“That wasn’t the agreement.”

“Yeah, well, plans change.”

Alex had to stop himself from lashing out at that, his jaw clenched in anger. That was not what they had agreed on at all. But, with Jack in his grip, the man had the upper hand. And he’d anticipated this happening. He could follow through with his plan and act now, and obviously be stupid about it and risk getting them all killed, or let Jack go. After all, he knew he was skilled enough to probably grab a gun and shoot someone, but he would probably end up getting shot before he could do anything. There was a look in Jack’s eyes that told him she wanted him to do what was best for him, to keep himself safe and make sure he didn’t get himself hurt. Even if that meant losing her. But Alex had to get Jack out of there unharmed.

“I guess they do,” the teen responded, taking a step closer to the two men and Jack. Rossi took a step back, wanting to increase the distance between himself and Alex, but the teen wasn’t going to let that happen. He took another step towards the men, hands up, ignoring how there was still a gun pointed at him. He was pretty sure that by now, the aim had moved from his leg to his chest — he was putting himself in direct danger.

Actually, he had a vest on, so it wasn’t too bad. He hoped. (He’d be fine until the gun aim clearly switched to aiming for his head.)

“You really think you’re the one in control, don’t you? At least, you think that enough to casually switch up the plans without telling me first. Trying to give yourself more of an upper hand just because you think you’re the one in control of this whole situation.” He took another step towards them, watching them as they stumbled back. “I hope you realise you’re not.”

The man scoffed, still holding his gun to Jack’s neck, but there was a spark of fear in his eyes now. Alex held back the smirk that threatened to show. He knew.

“You know who I really am, don’t you?” He could feel Ziva’s eyes burning into his back now, as if she was watching him closely. He knew that she had also pretty much worked out who he was now, even though she’d had no clue a day or so before when she’d come to the park to interview him (after tracking his phone, of course, which he still had to get at those agents for). He’d tried hard to keep it as much a secret as he could — after all, if the CIA knew he was here, they’d start sticking their noses in and no one wanted that.

The lack of an answer from the man in front of him, the man currently holding his best friend and guardian hostage, was enough to tell Alex that he definitely did know who he was dealing with. Maybe they hadn’t properly met before, but he’d heard of Alex and seen him before, just like Alex had seen him once or twice and clearly recognised his face. And Rossi was acting this way because he liked taking risks.

Stupid ones, in this case.

“Then you know what I’ve done to other people like you,” Alex continued, taking another step forward. The men took another step back, almost stumbling over their feet to get away from him. “You know that most people who have dealt with me and tried to double-cross me have ended up dead.” Another step, another stumble. Most of those people didn’t end up dead on purpose, but he wasn’t going to tell them that. Besides, he’d mentioned it on the phone earlier, and the man had seemed confident. Now? Not so much. “You know that most of those people are tougher than you are, have committed acts of terrorism and killed people more important to the world than my housekeeper.” Demoting Jack to housekeeper verbally wasn’t meant to be an insult, and he’d definitely try to make it up to her for saying that. But he was pointing out the obvious. No one had ever tried to blackmail him before and succeeded. Most people who tried to double-cross him and get him killed only tried to blackmail him using information that was important to governments and really big, important people. No one had ever tried to blackmail him using his housekeeper, who meant the world to him but meant nothing to the U.S. Government.

Another step, and this time the men didn’t stumble. This time, the men backed into a vent Alex had seen coming up behind them, and in their surprise the two of them turned to see what they had bumped into. Of course, this gave Alex the chance to make his move, and he turned briefly towards Ziva David.

Ziva David who had picked up her gun and was now throwing it in Alex’s direction, passing it to the teen so that he could at least threaten them with it, and at most shoot them for even thinking of touching Jack. By the time the two men had turned back to face Alex, both the teen and the agent had their guns (Ziva had pulled her spare from her ankle holster) trained on them. Of course, the agent pointing her gun at them had the usual look of an important federal officer, but Alex? Alex looked intimidating, and he looked furious.

He didn’t need to say that he’d trained with some of the worst people in the world to know how to hold a gun. He didn’t need to say that he’d shot people before and that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again if the situation called for it. It was all in his eyes.

“Let her go and you leave alive,” Alex commanded lowly, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. He wasn’t playing this time. He was serious. He obviously didn’t want to let the terrorists just go free, but Jack meant the world to him. He wasn’t going to let a couple of guys take her away from him — not again. If anyone wanted to take Jack from him, even as a hostage, they were going to have to shoot him first.

There seemed to be a few moments where Rossi was trying to figure out whether he really wanted to follow Alex’s instructions or wanted to push him that little bit further. At least, that was what Alex thought was going through his mind. In the end, though, the gun’s aim shifted from Jack to Alex, and the redhead was pushed right into Alex’s line of fire so that he couldn’t do anything about it. Alex quickly dropped his gun and pulled Jack towards him, getting her out of the way.

Ziva, however, still had her gun pointed at the men.

“Our deal?”

Alex looked up when Rossi spoke. Then he dug his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys, before tossing them over to the dealer. “Complete. You can go.”

The man caught the keys as they were tossed, and he watched Alex carefully for a few moments to see whether the teen would pull anything before beginning to head towards the door. (Alex was very tempted to, he really was, but he thought he’d give the agents a break and just let the man walk away.) Of course, he didn’t say a word to Alex, but that was fine with him. Their interaction was done — they’d got their free ticket out of the country, and Alex had Jack back. There was no reason to say anything.

In fact, no one said anything further until both men were gone.

“Are you really letting them go free?” Jack murmured, a frown on her face. As much as she hated Alex having to do his job, she knew that sometimes it was necessary. Especially when it came to criminals like drug dealers and terrorists.

The look Alex gave Jack was one of incredulity. “You really think they’re going scot-free?” He smirked. “Come on, Jack, have a little more faith in me.”

“You almost shot a man to save me and I didn’t scream bloody murder. I think I have more than enough faith in you, thanks.”

***

The rest of Alex’s holiday passed pretty uneventfully, fortunately. He wasn’t sure if he could take another case cropping up again, or another criminal asshole deciding to use him to get their way. Alex just wanted peace and sleep, which he got plenty of that night when he and Jack returned to her parents’ house.

Of course, there were many things that happened before they actually got to Jack’s parents’ house, one of which happened to be Alex and Jack heading back to NCIS for debriefing (and a much-needed chat with a trained psychologist, which Ducky was more than happy to help out with). When Alex was taken into the conference room to chat with Dr Mallard, Ziva pulled Jack into the corridor to speak with her privately. She needed her thoughts confirmed by someone who knew the teen and clearly knew about a certain part of his life.

The two women stood there for a few moments, Ziva debating how to say what she wanted to say, before she decided to just come out with it.

“Alex is a government agent, isn’t he?”

Jack stared at Ziva for a few moments, and she looked like she was about to deny it, when she eventually sighed. “Yeah. He, uh… he works for MI6.”

MI6. Of course. Ziva recalled hearing about him and how he’d worked to bring down terrorist agencies. How he was more successful than most adults in the same line of work. How he had links everywhere he went, and everywhere he worked. How almost every government worldwide wanted to work with him to ensure the safety of their citizens, to get the job done with minimal casualties. Alex Rider was a famed name in any government intelligence agency — even her father had spoken of him and how he would like to borrow him from the British some time.

The man wanting to get rid of him and using Jack to do that made a lot more sense now. Meeting Alex would only lead to his demise, and he knew it. He would have heard more than enough stories of Alex’s antics to be wary of him and everything he could do. It wasn’t as if knowledge of who Alex was was restricted to government agencies. But, obviously, trying to get to Alex through Jack had been the wrong thing to do. He was more intelligent than most people realised.

Jack’s eyes widened as the cogs turned in Ziva’s head. “They’re not going to find out about this, are they? We just about managed to get out of having security detail for this whole trip, and he’s meant to be on break from any missions until he gets back from this holiday. He’d wanted to stop until the end of his A-Levels, at least, but evil doesn’t wait that long, I guess.”

Ziva’s heart went out to the woman, and to Alex. She knew what it was like to have your childhood ripped from you by espionage and evil. A teenager certainly didn’t belong in this world either. “I am sorry your break was disturbed by us, but I will try my hardest to make sure MI6 does not find out about this.” Though, of course, there was a strong chance that they had already. The best she could do was to make sure the situation was controlled from their end.

The warm smile that appeared on the redhead’s face made Ziva worry a little less. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.” The ex-Mossad agent glanced towards the conference room door as it began to open, and Alex stepped out with Ducky not too far behind him. The elderly man gave Ziva a gentle smile and a nod, before glancing to Alex. “Now, young man, I trust you will take better care of yourself in the future?”

When Jack frowned at Alex, his only response was, “If I’d eaten better and not gone for cheap snacks, this wouldn’t have happened,” in a deadpan voice. In fact, the comment was so deadpan and sarcastic, that it made all three adults chuckle, and the teen cracked a grin.

***

Returning to the bullpen, Ziva sighed as she sat at her desk. Alex and Jack had been escorted out of the building, heading back to Jack’s parents’ place to finish off their holiday. All was well. Well, at least she hoped all was well. It was more like it was all well on Jack and Alex’s side.

On their side, though? The murderer had got away. Alex had got what he wanted, but in the process NCIS had been forced to give up their murderer and let him go scot-free. It wouldn’t make sense to any usual agent, and as it was Ziva was surprised that Gibbs had let Alex carry out his plan. Granted, she had been worried that he’d blow it and seriously injure Rossi at the very least. But it had happened, and it was too late now. There weren’t even any trackers on the vehicles that they had procured for the man, as per his request, and Alex had been pretty determined to make sure this request was followed. He’d gone through the vehicle and thoroughly checked every part of it. Which had confused them all.

Until Alex explained that small part of his plan to her.

“We just got a call from Metro,” McGee announced as he put his phone down, a small smirk on his face. “Answering the BOLO. Apparently, some guys matching the descriptions we sent out just pulled up on the interstate with no gas in their tank and an engine on fire. They were answering the call with the fire department and when they recognised the descriptions, they arrested them and brought them in for us. They’re downstairs heading to the holding cells now.”

Ziva cracked a smirk.

“Wait,” Tony said, a frown on his face. “What about—”

“There’s no helicopter, Tony,” Ziva interjected. “Alex asked me to cancel the request as soon as McGee made it.”

Tony looked extremely puzzled for more than a few moments. Ziva understood why, admittedly, but she also knew it wasn’t too difficult of a concept to understand. There was no helicopter. Alex had planned for it. He hadn’t wanted the two men to escape any other way, which was why Gibbs and Tony had been asked to stay hidden on the roof the entire time and make sure the two men didn’t pull any funny business instead of, you know, catching them before they got to the car. Alex hadn’t wanted to leave himself open for revenge — he’d had too much of that in his young life.

Plus, it was a petty, teenaged way of getting his own revenge.

“How did he even set that up for the car?” Tony asked near-silently, his eyes wide in awe.

Ziva didn’t want to tell him that she knew exactly how and that she’d been watching him as he’d checked the car. She could also tell that McGee had an idea of how, but he wasn’t going to spill either. All Tony needed to know was that Alex had done it, and now they had a pair of criminals waiting to be questioned and charged by them.

And, honestly, as grateful as Ziva was for Alex’s help, she much preferred to keep him out of the picture so that he could get the restful holiday he deserved.

***

Getting back to the house, Jack’s parents were more than glad to see the pair of them back in time for dinner. Of course, Jack was starving, but Alex had already eaten. (He was already really hungry, but not to the point that his stomach would end up eating him from the inside out.) So the pair of them had quickly showered and changed into comfortable clothes before heading down to dinner.

It was just as Alex had finished changing that there was a knock on the door, and he called out a quick, “Come in!” before going back to sorting out his hair. It was still a little damp from only being towel-dried, but it was tolerable and could be sorted out to stay out of his face. It would dry by the time he went to bed if the warm weather kept up like this.

Turning around, he was a little surprised to see Jack stood in the open doorway instead of one of his ‘cousins’ coming to get him for dinner. Giving his hair one last ruffle, he tossed the towel onto his bed. “Jack, you alright?”

Jack was stood in front of him, hugging herself. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she also looked like she wanted to cry. Alex, of course, understood why — she had been in a dangerous situation before, obviously, but this had hit a little too close to home. And it wasn’t as if she’d been held at gunpoint like that before. When he didn’t get an immediate reply, he moved towards her and pulled her into a tight hug, not surprised at all when she hugged him back and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. The pair stood there like that for a few moments, just relishing in the affectionate contact, before Alex finally pulled away. There were a few tears in Jack’s eyes, but she wiped them away quickly, as if she hadn’t wanted Alex to see them.

“I’ll be fine,” she answered quietly, taking a deep breath. “It’s just—”

“A lot?” Alex finished for her, knowing exactly what she meant. She nodded.

“A lot.”

“You think food will help you feel better?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed at him. “Is that your way of saying we should go down for dinner before anyone gets suspicious?”

Alex just gave her a cheeky grin, which made her laugh and shake her head as he looped his arm around hers and dragged her out of the room. Hey, he was hungry, and he wasn’t going to let Jack mope now when she could do that with ice cream after dinner. And, you know, they had the rest of the holiday to emotionally talk and make up for the stressful time they’d had today.

Now, though? Now was time for food and cheering up around family. And if anyone asked why they took so long at the mall, he would just point out Jack’s indecisiveness… even if she wouldn’t be all too appreciative of that.

#writing: mine #writing: fanfic writings #written for: lilcoffeecup #fandom: ncis #ncis fanfiction #ncis #fandom: alex rider #alex rider fanfiction #alex rider #multichap: holiday mishaps

[aremarkablygoofymovie]

Secret Unkept (1/?)

Chapters: ?

Fandom: NCIS

Characters: Ellie Bishop, Tim McGee, mentions of Ziva David

Pairing: none!

Rating: a very soft T or a hard K+ (there’s like one mild curse word) 

Words: ~1800

Warnings: angst & talk of Ziva’s death 

Spoilers: through 16x13 (”She”)

Post-Ep: takes place after 16x18 (next week’s episode, “Mona Lisa”), but it’s related to 16x13 (”She”)

Summary: After Nick gets hurt, Bishop confesses Ziva’s secret to McGee. 

It’s been a long day, and both Tim and Ellie are unusually quiet on the ride back to the yard. Though the recent spring time change means the sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon, the agents find themselves stifling yawns and daydreaming about getting home to bed.

“Hey, McGee, thanks for driving me today,” Bishop says softly. She clears her throat; she’s barely spoken since she and Tim hit the road nearly an hour ago, too emotionally drained after the day’s events to make much conversation.

“Sure, no problem,” McGee replies absentmindedly. He sneaks a glance at his passenger out of the corner of his eye. “I know you were pretty rattled this morning when we finally heard about Nick. I’m glad you didn’t have to be on the road like that.”

Ellie smiles a little vacantly. “I’m just glad he’s safe,” she murmurs.

For the safety of my family . . .

Ziva’s words have been echoing in her head for weeks now. Having never met Agent David, Bishop has no voice to assign to the warning, so it’s been her own voice whispering whenever the day grew quiet enough for wandering minds. Still, though, as the days keep passing without so much as a hint of news, she finds herself feeling hopelessly lost and in way over her head.

_I need help, _she realizes. After all, Nick might be fine now, but earlier in the day his future hadn’t been so sure. What if that had been me? What if something happens to me, and no one ever knows?

“Hey, Tim.” The words tumble out of her mouth before her brain catches up to what she’s about to do. “I – I gotta tell you something.”

From the driver’s seat, McGee furrows his brow slightly at the use of his first name and the tone of Bishop’s voice, but his eyes stay fixed on the road. It’s been a stressful day, he figures it’s not too far outside the realm of possibility that Bishop is just having a bit of an emotional moment. (Goodness knows he’s had his share over the years, too.)

“Sure, Bish, what’s up?”

Bishop swallows hard and fixes her eyes on her teammates face before saying slowly and with as much clarity as she can muster, “Ziva is alive.”

There are moments – fleeting moments, few and far between – that remind Bishop just how much time Timothy McGee has spent around Gibbs over the past decade and a half. The way his face stays completely expressionless as he whips the car to the shoulder against a chorus of protesting horns? Definitely one such moment.

When the car comes to a stop, McGee very quietly puts it in park, pulls the key from the ignition, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns (slowly, slowly, slowly) towards Bishop. The way his right hand clenches around the key is the only physical manifestation of his emotion as he says softly, “What did you just say?”

Bishop opens her mouth and shuts it again, feeling very exposed under McGee’s undivided attention and unrelenting gaze, before finally speaking. “She’s alive. Ziva. She’s – she’s still out there.”

McGee blinks slowly. “No,” he finally says. “That’s impossible.”

“McGee –”

“I watched her die, Ellie!” Tim’s calm façade flies away and the car keys slide through his fingers to the carpet with a tiny jingle that does absolutely nothing to break the rising tension as his voice rises. “I watched her house explode on international television! The director of Mossad brought her daughter to Vance’s office! Hell, Tony moved to Europe! Ziva. David. Is. Dead.”

An angry tear runs down his face and he takes a shaky breath. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled, but it took me a long time to – Bishop. What are you doing?”

Bishop finishes wrestling her wallet from her back pocket and slides out a small, folded up sheet of white paper. McGee watches closely as she smooths the page out flat on the dashboard.

“Bishop?” He’s too busy watching her actions to pay much attention to the paper itself, until she says, “Is this her handwriting?”

Between the chaos of the day’s events, the rush of emotions from which he’s just beginning to calm down, and the roar of traffic outside the window, McGee’s not quite firing on all cylinders, so he’s quickly growing very confused by the seemingly disjointed turn of events. “Whose handwriting?”

“Ziva’s. Is this Ziva’s handwriting?” Bishop urges, sliding the mystery wallet paper towards McGee.

After a moment’s glance, his eyes widen and he grabs the paper up for a closer look because yes it is. “Where did you get this?” he demands without looking up. His eyes race back and forth over the words and he rubs his thumb gently across the page.

Bishop tucks her hair behind her ears nervously, keeping a close eye on McGee’s reactions. “During the, uh, Morgan Burke case – the case where we found her office,” she begins, “I went to read Morgan’s mom’s letter to Robert. Gibbs gave me Ziva’s journal, and I went over to the hospital, but when I went to read the letter, the page was torn out. Robert said a woman had already been there and read it to him.”

McGee waits anxiously for Bishop to continue, his fingers of one hand still grazing back and forth on the paper while the other hand gripped it tight.

“I figured it might’ve had something to do with Ziva. I didn’t want to assume to much, but I went over to her office, and that’s where I found the letter,” Bishop finishes.

McGee nods slowly, his eyes distant as he processes what he would’ve said ten minutes ago was completely impossible.

“Wait!” He exclaims suddenly, his eyebrows shooting up and his eyes swiveling to Ellie’s. “You didn’t tear the page out of the notebook?”

“No, McGee, I just said –”

“And you got the notebook from Gibbs?”

“Yeah.”

“Was the letter still there when Gibbs got the journal?”

“Yeah. He took it from me, and when I had it last, the page was still there.” Bishop frowns, not understanding McGee’s line of questioning. “What is this all about?”

McGee’s eyes are wide and bordering on frantic. “Bishop, if the letter was in the journal when you gave it to Gibbs but gone when he gave it back to you, then whoever tore out the page did it while the journal was with Gibbs!”

Bishop’s jaw drops. “Gibbs knows,” she breaths. “Ziva’s alive, and she was in DC, and she was at Gibbs’ house!”

“Oh my god,” McGee whispers, finally setting Ziva’s note back on the dash and rubbing both hands over his head. After a moment, he turns back to Ellie. “Do you know anything else?” He demands. “Is she okay? What does this mean about keeping her family safe?”

Bishop throws up her hands almost defensively. “You know everything I do, McGee. And look, I know she says not to tell anyone, but, I mean, Nick just almost died today, and I couldn’t stop thinking that it could’ve been me, and then no one would’ve known that Ziva’s still out there.” She laughs drily, then adds, “Except Gibbs, apparently. Of course.”

“No, no, no, I’m glad you told me,” McGee says quickly. “God, we gotta – I gotta call Tony! Oh my god, Tony. Do you think he knows?”

“No!” Bishop exclaims. “I mean, not ‘No, Tony doesn’t know,’ but ‘No, don’t call Tony.’ She told me to keep her secret, and I’ve already told you. The last thing we should do is get more people involved, right?”

She looks down to check an incoming text as McGee sighs. “Yeah,” He concedes, though he’s nearly whining in frustration, “But this is her –” He pauses – her what? Tony was never her “boyfriend,” at least as far as Tim knows (_Though I seem to be out of the loop lately, _he thinks derisively), and “lover” doesn’t really fit either. “Best friend” doesn’t quite convey the significance of the pair’s bond; Tim’s had best friends, like Abby and even Tony, but those relationships were never anything like the one between David and DiNozzo. “I mean, this is Tony we’re talking about!” He finally says, though he realizes that the meaning is effectively lost on Bishop, who never saw them together or even knew Ziva at all. “This is the father of her child,” He adds, in the interests of emphasis, detail, and relational accuracy.

“He might already know,” Bishop reasons. “For all we know, they’re having dinner together as a family right now. And if she hasn’t told him, it’s because she doesn’t want him to know.” She pauses, taps out a quick response to the text, and turns back to McGee. “Gibbs is asking where we are. You want me to drive the rest of the way?”

“Sure. Thanks.” McGee’s voice is hollow as he slips out of the driver’s seat to swap spots with Ellie.

It doesn’t take Bishop long to slide behind the wheel and find the keys on the floor, and then they’re back on the road. The quiet is different now, less tired but relieved and more shocked and uncertain. Ellie fiddles with the radio a bit before deciding maybe the silence is best.

They’re just turning into the parking lot when McGee says, barely a whisper, “She didn’t tell me.”

“Hmm?” Bishop looks over at him. She missed what he said, distracted by her own thoughts about the mysterious life, death, and life of Ziva David.

“You said that if she wanted Tony to know she was alive, she’d tell him,” McGee explains, just a little louder, as Bishop searches for an empty space. “She didn’t tell me. She wants me to think she’s dead.”

“Tim –” Bishop starts to explain that that wasn’t exactly what she’d meant (Wasn’t it, though?) but he cuts her off.

“It’s okay, Bishop,” he mutters. “I guess I just don’t understand.” He pauses as if he’s done talking, but apparently changes his mind. “I mean, I was here from the beginning. We were ‘Probie’ McGee and Officer David. I helped her study to become a citizen. I helped her look for her father’s killer. I just – ” He chokes up but swallows back his tears. “Gibbs I understand. But why would he tell you instead of me?”

A million reasons, Bishop thinks. She’s trying to protect her family – you’re a part of that, but I’m not. I’m safe and neutral.

As she shifts the car into park and pulls the keys from the ignition, though, she knows that’s not at all what McGee needs to hear. “I don’t know, Tim,” she says softly. “But if Ziva was here in DC after all this time? I have a feeling we’re going to find out.”

#NCIS #fic #fanfiction #Tim McGee #Ellie Bishop #Ziva David #ncis secret unkept

[gingerstorm101]

Listen to Your Heart

She watched the airplane take off from the tarmac, tears pouring down her face as she says her final goodbyes to him. Her lover. Her everything. But his life was back there, in DC where they had first met, all those years ago, not here in Israel. That was her home, or at least it use to be, and will once again. But she couldn’t stay here any longer, not with what she had done. And now, after what she had done with him, if she ever went back there, to that job, she wouldn’t be able to go back to how they use to be, when they were just partners.

And she could definitely not go back to that, not after his months long stay at her farm house. She can never forget the way he makes her feel. Going back to work, being with him everyday and not being allowed to touch him, so she made that final decision to not go back to America. To stay in the house her father left her; where she was born.

It was the hardest decision she had ever had to make.

That was over two years ago.

Her house is gone. He is gone. Their daughter is gone. And here she is, alone, with her cellphone in her hand. Fifteen missed calls, from him. No one else, just him. By now she bets that he had met their daughter and he had been attempting fate by calling her, even after claiming on the news that she is dead. And it breaks her heart every time she has to let it ring. Oh, she wants to answer him, she wants to hear his voice again. She wants to talk to her baby girl again. She’s never gone this long without being with her little one.

Her heart screams at her to go to him, to fly to Washington and pull him into a hug and kiss, and never let go. But she knew she couldn’t do that, they would know she would go there, to him. She has a different plan, anyways. She has had it since she packed that picture in their daughter’s diaper bag; to Paris, she had always loved Paris. She just hopes he gets the hint.

Her cell rings again as she’s heading out the door of the hotel room. Her thumb hovers over the green button before she regrettably removes it from the screen; she lets it go to voicemail. With a sigh, she makes her way out of the hotel, and soon, out of the country.

She rests her head against the wall of the plane as it takes off of the desert ground. Her phone has rang twice since she was in the airport, and this is the first time it’s been silent for so long, now that it was on airplane mode. Each time he has called her, she has come closer to answering, going against Orli’s wishes. But she has to stay strong, she’ll see them soon.

Five hours pass a lot quicker than she expects. Her book is finished and she couldn’t help but think of him, The Little Prince, over the past couple years, when she was feeling particularly lonely, she plays the old movie, to the point where she can quote along with the added lines of the movie. She only wishes she had decided to pack her laptop in her carry-on so she could watch it.

The air is warm in Paris for the nice May weather. Flashes of the last time she was in the city comes to her quickly. The hotel, restaurant, the cafe, anything that holds a memory to her. Without a second thought, she heads to the hotel she has booked and drops off her luggage before heading to the little cafe on the corner.

Her phone rings again before she makes it to the cafe, keeping to herself, she again doesn’t answer it. However, when she arrives and orders her coffee, she pulls it out and dials her voicemail to listen to the messages he has left her.

“Ziva… W-why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve called.”

He was upset, and rightly so. She knew she shouldn’t have kept it from him, and she regrets ever hiding her pregnancy and daughter from him. She had spent every moment of her pregnancy with him on her mind, scared of what he would say if she told him. Worried that he might not even want their daughter, even if her anxiety was far fetched, it had kept her from telling him. Even the fear of him quitting his job and and coming to her was something she wouldn’t wish him to ever do. She knows he’d drop everything for her.

“There is so much that I have missed, please tell me, why?”

She was just trying to keep him safe, but in the end, she just broke his heart, she can hear it in his voice. Now look where it got her. Her home was gone, she and her daughter were in danger, and he believed her to be dead.

“Ziva, we got the guy who did it, you’re safe.”

That was a relief. She didn’t have to hide anymore. She can prove to him that she is in fact, still alive. She can finally go to him, and they can be happy together for the first time since he stayed with her. That time alone, they were free to do as they pleased, and it resulted in a beautiful baby girl. And now they were free to be at peace again.

“Tim and Jimmy have been fawning over Tali since she got here, they hate to see us go.”

Her eyes starts to tear up. She wishes she could have taken her daughter to see her friends in person. Something which she had been thinking of doing many times since her baby girl was born. Showing Gibbs that he does have a grandchild, her friends that they do have a niece. But she didn’t, she stayed in hiding where she thought they were safe from the dangers of the outside world. Now it was her daughter’s father who had to introduce her to her extended family, she just hopes that the little girl understands what was going on.

“Dad is happy to finally have a grandchild, he wants to come with us, but I told him no.”

She only wishes her own father had gotten to meet and dot on her daughter too. But she was grateful that Senior was able to meet her, someone he can start anew with, someone who doesn’t know his past mistakes. She had told her daughter about her grandfather, but kept his mistakes to herself. She would rather have her daughter see him as a hero than a cunning con-man.

“Well, we’ve booked our flight out, we’ll see you when we see you.”

That last message was sent nearly eight hours before, meaning that they should be arriving anytime now. Sipping her coffee, she stares down at her phone on the table. She wasn’t so sure if he was going to call her again or if he was going against the odds and just showing up to the cafe. It would probably be safer for her if he just shows up in front of her. She doesn’t know what she’d say if she had to suddenly hear his voice again. After all these years, his voice still made her weak in the knees.

Around her, voices mingles into one, French layered over each other, very few other languages mixed in, but one stood out. Hebrew. She looks up hastily, searching for the voice. Someone was speaking it not to far away. “Aba, where is Ima?” The reply that came was broken, as if he didn’t speak hebrew all the time, but practiced it every so often.

“Soon, baby.”

That voice.

Her heart stops.

Her phone rings.

Looking down at the phone in front of her, she reads the name. It’s him. She lets it ring for a few moments, taking the time to calm her racing heart, before she answers it.

“T-Tony?”

He didn’t answer her, but in the crowd, he waves to her, he walks up to her, her daughter balanced on his shoulders. There is was, after all these years apart, he was here in front of her. Was this a dream? I must be. She pinches her wrist, She’s really awake, this is really happening.

Before she knows it, he’s standing in front of her, towering over her and the table. “Ziva.” He sighs, a smile growing on his face.

“Ima!” Their daughter giggles from her perch, her arms stretched towards her.

She gets up from the table, her eyes never leaving his, and walks into his arms.

“You knew to come.” She whispers, staring into his eyes, tears glistening in the sunlight.

He was quiet for a moment, leaning in for a kiss. “I listened to my heart.” He closes the gap and presses his lips against hers.

#that show i shall not name #tiva fanfiction #fanfic #tony x ziva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #talk david-dinozzo #post family first #ZIVA ISN'T DEAD #she never was #and never will be

[officialydonefanfiction]

Split Across the Continents Chapter #2

Washington DC The rest of the team’s day had been made up of going through bank statements, credit cards, and trying to get into contact with the Pentagon about King’s assignment. So far the pentagon had been worse than useless leaving Tony exhausted and Gibb’s irritable. Then at around four in the afternoon they had managed to get in touch with Maria King who had been out of town on a business trip. That had then led to and hour of trying to console Maria about the death of her husband. All in all, Tony was tired. He continued to ponder Ziva’s reaction to hearing about a ten year old daughter. It wasn’t often that she broke down but then it had been a surprise that neither of them had been expecting.

As the clock ticked past seven in the evening and the team were still working, Gibbs stormed through and ordered them all to have an early night and they would pick up tomorrow. Tony watched as McGee grabbed his coat and sprinted out of the building but he waited. Ziva stayed at her desk appearing to not have heard Gibbs. “Ziva, early night?” Tony prompted her, as he held her coat. “Yes, I know.” She accepted the coat as she stared off into the distance. “I’m coming over tonight.” Tony informed her as he waited for her to pull her coat on. “I know.” Ziva added grabbing her bag. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” She added giving him a small smile to indicate that he was still welcome. “Just give me about an hour to change and grab some stuff.” Tony added as they got in the elevator. Ziva nodded not really listening. The rode the rest of the way in silence but stayed together until they got to their cars. Tony gave Ziva a quick kiss on the forehead and started to head towards his apartment.

Less than an hour later he was knocking on the door to her apartment clutching a DVD and a bottle of wine. “You have a key you know.” Ziva chastised him as she let him. She wore what he knew to be her comfortable clothes and her hair was wet from the shower. “Hello to you too.” Tony nodded as he shuffled off his shoes and accepted the glass of wine that she offered him. “What happened today, Ziva? We deal with kids all the time but you seemed really out of it today.” Tony asked starting up their conversation from earlier. “It’s just that today was the anniversary that I lost her and it just hit me harder than normal.” Ziva explained quietly her voice wobbling dangerously. “Im sorry for forgetting. Seven whole years huh.” Tony mumbled as he pulled her back into a hug. Unlike earlier, he felt Ziva’s body start to shake and it was all he could do not to break down as well. Seven years since Ziva had seen her last. “She’s be ten now, if she is still alive. That’s the worst bit. I don’t know.” Ziva said through her tears. “We’ll find out one day. Then we can put this behind us. We can move forward.” Tony added more for himself than for Ziva. Tony’s use of the plural sent another wave of tears down Ziva’s face. He was so sure that they could do this but she just wasn’t. Almost four years ago she had run off to Israel in a crisis of conscience over keeping this secret, terrified that he would push he away and instead he had pulled her closer. Determined to make it work between the two of them, he had stayed with her throughout the worst of the mourning and self hate. She knew why they still weren’t in a full on married relationship was because she was still so sure that he blamed her for it happening. If only she had told him sooner than none of this would have happened… “None of this is your fault.’ Tony whispered into her ear almost as though he could hear everything that she was thinking. Even though he was wrong. All of this was her fault and now she was paying for it.

The rest of the evening passed in a kind of melancholy domestic way. They ended up watching a movie that neither of them could remember although they both pretended to before collapsing into bed. Tony attempted to pull Ziva in close but she pulled away. “Please don’t do this again.” Tony muttered as she reached for her again. “I can’t. Not tonight.” Ziva mumbled as she turned away. “This self hate Ziva, it won’t change a damn thing and you know it.” Tony added trying to keep his voice even. The last time she did this, he ended up chasing her across three continents. Ziva didn’t reply or turn to face him. Tony left it, to tired to fight tonight, instead opting to fall asleep. As he slipped off he was sure he felt Ziva reach for his hand in the dark.

Ziva’s sombre mood continued on into the next day as they continued to grasp at straws looking for a lead. Abby had combed through the evidence at least four times to no avail and Gibb’s irritation at their lack of a lead was beginning to show. “Do we have anything?” Gibbs shouted at the team as he came in from a coffee run. Tony looked across at his coworkers, McGee shrugged and Ziva shook her head. “We’ve got nothing boss. The wife and kid are coming in today though. Kid, Sara, was staying with a family friend when it happened.” Tony told the boss. “Send them up to the conference room.” Gibbs added to them as he stalked off towards Abby’s lab. “Do you think that they will know anything?” Ziva asked Tony as the tail of Gibb’s coat went out of view. “I doubt it. Kids are rarely involved. The wife seemed properly distraught and surprised about her husbands death.” Tony added. McGee narrowed his eyes though, DiNozzo’s theory was always that the wife did it yet today he had not yet once brought up the possibility of the wife. “What about the wife?” McGee spoke up, well someone was going to have to bring it up. “Subscribing to the DiNozzo theory, probe?” Tony ribbed but shook his head as he did so. “Not this time, she was properly shaken up.” “She seemed it but then we deal with lying spouses all the time.” McGee added. “Lying spouses!” A small middle-aged woman with cropped brown hair and boot cut jeans shrieked. Ziva shot a death glare at McGee before turning to what was obviously Mrs King. “We do not think that anyone is lying Mrs King. IF you would please follow me to the conf-“ Ziva was cut off by the wail of Mrs King. “Marcus would never lie to me and all I want is for you to find the person who killed Sara’s father!” Mrs King shouted as she grabbed onto what seemed like a disinterested ten year old. Sara acted like she hadn’t even heard her mother, preferring instead to scuff her tattered reboks along the carpet. “Mrs King, we are doing all that we can to find out what happened but would you please come with me to the conference room where agent Gibbs will be to help narrow down your husbands last movements.” Ziva spoke calmly as she lead the now hysterical Mrs King to the conference room. Meanwhile Tony was distracted by the young girl following them. She had the same sandy coloured hair as Lieutenant King but the small stature of her mother. What was most striking about her though was the ripped jeans and the expensive leather jacket that Sara was wearing. No way was that being afforded on a lieutenants salary or even with the combined income of her parents. Mrs King hadn’t been dressed in anything flashy and when they went to talk to Mrs King yesterday, their house had been marine housing with no expensive furniture or flashy watches. In fact, that jacket was the most expensive thing he had seen at the King’s. “That is something very wrong here.” Tony quoted in a high voice much to the look of mystery on McGee’s face. “Little Shop of Horrors? Come on McGee.” McGee shook his head and went back to his computer screen. “McGee, the girl’s jacket. That thing is more expensive than anything the King’s own. Now why would a ten year old have that amount of cash to flaunt on clothes?” “Because she saved for years to get it?” McGee questioned, not really following Tony’s thoughts. “No, she had to have gotten the cash from somewhere. I reckon Miss Sara is keeping secrets from her parents.” Tony added. “Now, whilst you are suspecting the ten year old, I have been running down King’s credit card statements. Last night he bought a hotel room in the seediest part of town after frequenting a few bars. I thought to myself, why would he do that when he has a house on the base less than 20 minutes from here so I phoned up the hotel desk and asked if they remembered him. Hotel clerk said that he came in with a woman who was definitely not Mrs King, ergo husband was cheating. Wife found out and had him killed.” McGee finished with a smug smile on his face. “Yeah McGee, but where would she have gotten the money to pay for said killer. The King’s weren’t exactly well off and Mrs King was out of town on a business trip. There are about fifty witnesses to prove it.” Tony shot him down. “I’m still telling Gibbs. I have a motive.” McGee said pulling out his phone and calling Gibbs. Tony pulled a face and sank down at his desk. There was something not right about Sara.

#ncis #tiva #fanfic #family #casefic

[indestinatus]

2, 3, 15, 22.

thank you for always asking, my friend. may you be blessed.

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

I actually had one in mind which is enemies to lovers but now I’m finally writing it so YAAAY Tony and Ziva really have so much specific traits that could easily be turned into a hate to lust to love story, I’m really having a blast :’)

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Yes and that is genderswap. Not for me, but I’ve been here in the 2010s and fanfic reading/sharing was an incredible and dangerous place. 

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I’m gonna say any about the three musketeers shenanigans, because I really do miss them and any extra footage of them would warm my heart. So Spooky Season, Graveyard Shift, or Friday the 13th. 

OH MIDWAY THROUGH WRITING THIS I THOUGHT OF ONE

OF COURSE the NCIS 17x11: the ending we deserved because c’mon. 

22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

that’s so interesting ohh this was my very first work about ncis in nov/2019 (about what could’ve happened in season 17 if tony was in danger, making a parallel with 7x01 - I know, I know, we were clowns back then):

The black and white screen shows Ziva smiling, but sad.

The episode opens with Ziva being dragged into a room, with untidy hair, ragged clothes, and bloody skin. Her hands are tied behind her back and a man is speaking in a foreign language to another one in the dark.

She is silent but her eyes are scanning the room, looking for possible exits.

He then forces her to a chair, in front of another prisoner also tied up. A man wearing a hood that covers his whole face and is visibly weak. Blood spots the front of his worn shirt.

“Take it off of him,” said the man who had taken her there.

We can hear the sound of the hood being lifted but the camera only focuses on Ziva’s face. A single tear spills down her cheek.

“Do you know her?” asks him to the victim tied up.

The camera then shifts to reveal that the man is Tony. His eyes water, but he locks his jaw and manages not to cry.

“Never seen her. But she’s pretty,” he says, with his typical playful grin, “Care to introduce me to this sweetcheeks?”

Ziva is now silently crying, but a small smile appears on her lips.

The screen goes black and white.

so let’s rewrite it:

Her arm muscles burn like hell, but as much as Ziva tries to get the blood flowing, she physically cannot. 

The ropes are too tight. 

There’s no strength left. A single name echoes in the back of her mind, but that’s it. The rest is hollow. After what could’ve been hours or even days without food or drink, her body feels and moves like it’s made out of concrete. 

She is close to giving up, and she knows that. Mossad has taught her that everyone has a breaking point, and she knows her own. Ziva knew that were more risks than hopes of this operation succeeding, but there was no choice.

If there was a possibiltity of that shot in the dark hitting its mark, she would die there if she must. 

Ziva keeps her eyes closed. She has long memorized that room now, and there’s no use in trying to see in the shadows. Focusing on the sounds, she can picture things more clearly.

Orders being screamed from afar. The creak of a rusty gate swinging shut. Footsteps coming closer, maybe a group of three. 

A man barks orders to another one as they storm into her cell, speaking in a foreign language Ziva only partly recognizes. One of them grabs her shoulders and pulls her up in a second, and a flicker of a rational thought passes her mind.

She’s being moved. 

Ziva is too weak to fight back, but bile comes to sting her tongue. She knows what it means. It means consequences. The circumstances are so similar to what happened in Somalia, she figured it all out before they even locked her up. As soon as they tied her wrists, she knew that was a point of no return. 

It wasn’t the same, though.

No, even if it looked the same, and felt the same and even smelt the same - Ziva wasn’t the same. Yes, she knew that this could be it - the ending, the goodbye - but she also went there with a purpose. She has a reason now, and a meaningful one. She chose, and would choose, to fight.

Because now, there was something she could lose. 

The men grab her arms too tight, but Ziva’s pleased. At least she can feel something. They walk briskly, and her feet stumble until she’s practically being dragged to another location, though she’s busy memorizing the route. It’s essential to know her way back. 

A door opens as quickly as it closes, and they drop her onto a chair that almost falls to the ground. Listening to barks of orders, Ziva finds that there are more people inside this room - which is not fortunate. She needs to know why. 

A light flickers above her head and Ziva blinks, the pounding ache just under her eyes returning. She feels nauseated with the smell of the room - human sweat and blood, heat closing it all in - but she forces herself to breathe. 

They continue to scream all around her, and Ziva notices that it is in fact a discussion. Something is not right. Part of them doesn’t want her to be there.

She’s still trying to put their words together when someone pulls her hair down, forcing her to look up. Her scalp burns and Ziva protests, but she’s too tied up. It hurts more than helps. 

That’s when she feels the cold. Such a stone, chilling cold that makes her heart stop, then gallop inside her chest. It goes through her spine and makes her sit still. 

There’s another prisoner sitting right in front of her. 

He’s got a hood over his head and blood spots on his shirt. 

She knows who he is. 

One of the men yanks out the hood, and Ziva can’t breathe. For a moment, she thinks he's dead.

“Do you know her?” barks someone in the dark, the voice laced in anger.

Tony blinks. Ziva doesn’t. 

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

“Never seen her,” Tony replies, swallowing dry. He looks to have been here for the same time as her, the bags under his eyes and his cracked lips telling her so. 

Someone forces Tony’s head to look straight ahead, and the man who appears to be a leader among them repeats his question with chilling despise. 

“Do you know her?”

Tony smiles faintly, and the image is so familiar Ziva feels as if she’s dreaming. She thought she had lost that smile for good. 

“Y'might want to run a check-up on that hearing. I just said I don’t know her.”

“Then think again. You might want to change that answer.”

Tony swallows, and his smile dies. Ziva can see him thinking carefully, but she keeps her face as impassive as possible.Things could go really wrong.

“She’s pretty, though. Past the black eye and torn lip and blood stains, that is.” 

Tony shoots a look to the leader Ziva doesn’t see it as wise. The sparkle in his eyes though, is directed at her, and Ziva has to force herself not to react when Tony smiles with all the recklessness she’d come to know him with.

“Care to introduce me to this sweetcheeks?”

this was so so so fun!!! thank you <3

fanfic asks

#ask #my fics #probably the most pleasing thing i've done in a while #so thank you <33 #likeanorangeonatoothpick #ncis #tiva #tiva fanfiction

[indestinatus]

The Reunion

(Cairo - chapter 2/4)

chapter 1

The streets were long and broad, carrying illustrious names. They’re macadamed and crowded dwellings were located on both sides, with terraces and decorated gates beside long colorful windows with shutters and intricate tapestries swaying in the wind.

The smell of burning fuel and perfume filled the air, as well as strong spices, coriander, cardamom, cumin, and chili, coming from hidden stalls. Vendors shouted various prices and foreign names, and people were busy buying jewelry, clothes and other goods to pay too much attention to anything.

Faint exotic music could be heard from the distance if you trespassed the main market limits and went deeper into the old streets of the city. Sand covered the cobblestones and the heat hugged your body, worse due to the crowd and limited space.

A woman crossed the market plaza swiftly, a blueish cloth protecting her face from the heat and sand. Her dark brown eyes were the only thing visible, and if you looked closer, they were sharp as a knife. She kept her head down as she walked, but her pace was confident and fast.

She'd just took down three men sent by the woman who wanted her dead.

Her name was Sahar.

Loud bells rang from the main chapel, marking three in the afternoon.

It was the 21st of November 2016. Cairo, Egypt.

Ziva David was afraid.

All she could think about was if Tony had seen the message she left on the back of the photo of them in Paris along with Tali's things six months ago.

If he did, he would've already been here. He would've already contacted her. And they would've have one last chance. A chance for her to explain everything, or at least try to.

If he didn't, it was already too late. Since she faked her death in Tel Aviv back in June, everywhere she went, she'd sense she was being watched. Just this week in Cairo, she'd tracked down almost fifteen killers sent by Sahar.

Tonight was her last chance of seeing Tali.

She spent the whole day wiping out the remaining men so that if her family came tonight, they'd had a small hope of safety. Time was running out.

Ziva crossed the street which led to the hotel she was staying. She'd only chosen it because the rooftop was the highest one nearby. Easier for her to take watch, worse for snippers to do their job.

She entered the main hall in a hurry, eager to get to her room. She'd already disposed of the knife but wanted to watch from above if there was any commotion on the streets.

If there was any sign of them.

"Ms. Rainier!" a voice stopped her just in front of the elevator. Oh lech tiz-day-en, what now?

She turned around slowly, the cloth still covering half her face, but the concierge sure saw the deadly haze her eyes carried.

"I-I'm so-sorry, miss, I know you've asked for the utmost disc-cretion," said the short man, sweat covering his forehead, "but there's a gentleman demanding to see you. His name is Jean-Paul. He says he's your husb-band."

Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul Rainier.

"Of course, thank you."

Jean-Paul and Sophie Rainier were the married assassins they portrayed in the undercover operation, a lifetime ago. Ziva always joked with him that if they had another life, perhaps they'd have a chance together. She never knew if he'd remember that.

Apparently, she was wrong.

"Where is he?"

"He's right there, miss. With the stroller."

Ziva turned around. Their eyes met.

It's strange. When someone's very important and you haven't seen them for a long time, as soon as you do it's easier to breathe.

Tony swayed Tali's stroller slowly, a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. He looked older, more mature. For a moment, they only stared blankly at each other, the world slowing down.

Then Tony looked upwards and sighed heavily, shoulders going down. He looked back at her again, and his eyes were different.

There were tears.

"You sure are difficult to find, sweetcheeks."

Ziva let out a harsh laugh, but her feet couldn't step closer.

Why is that the more you have to say, the harder it is to speak?

"You look tan," she said.

"You look tired," he answered, "almost as if you just came back from the dead."

His eyes looked hurt for a second, "sorry, I had to-"

"Is she-"

"She's sleeping."

Ziva nodded, she didn't know where to start. Even after rehearsing again and again what to say to him, her mind was now blank.

Tony motioned with his head to the elevator, pushing Tali's stroller that way.

Ziva's breath caught in her throat when she saw her daughter sleeping in it. She was sucking her little thumb and holding Kelev tightly.

She was safe. She was cared for. She was loved.

"Yeah, I know," said Tony, "she snores so peacefully, doesn't she? Just like her mother."

Ziva's eyes shot up at that. He was smiling, that boyish DiNozzo smile. Her heart plummeted with the sight.

"You said I snored like a drunken sailor with emphysema."

"Oh, she remembers. Also, you got worse, you used to understand sarcasm in the English language."

They shared a brief laugh when the elevator doors closed, but it didn't last long.

"Sophie Rainier, really?"

"I did not think you would remember."

"I remember everything," his eyes were watching her as if he wouldn't let her leave again. Ziva was looking at Tali.

"I know."

They arrived at her floor and she tried to open the door, but her hands were trembling. Too many meds today.

"Here, let me help," said Tony, grabbing the keys from her hand. His fingers touched hers lightly and her breath caught again. Ziva had dreamed for too long about this moment. Seeing, touching him again. Both of them.

He noticed.

Tony opened her door and let Tali's stroller inside the room. It wasn't big, there was a closet, a bathroom, a double-sized bed and a small suitcase in the corner. The windows, however, were huge, with a beautiful view of the market streets of Cairo below and the pyramids in the distance.

The atmosphere was heavy. Tony gently took Tali out of the stroller and laid her in the bed, putting the duvet over her. She didn't even move, it was like he'd done that many times.

Ziva also wasn't moving. She was as still as a statue, paralyzed with the image of Tony taking care of their daughter. Yes, she'd seen photos of them quite frequently, but she didn't want to think so much about how he would manage to do that.

Now she knew.

It is my job to protect you, Ziva.

Handle with care, contents priceless.

I know you want to change. I can change with you.

He loved Tali just as he loved her all these years.

Ziva kneeled on the floor, hot tears spilling down her cheeks, hands trembling along with her whole body rocking back and forth. Everything was darkness, and she suddenly felt very cold. Her chest hurt as if her heart was ripped from it and shoved back in right after.

Panic attack. Panic attack. Her mind roared.

"I'm sorry, Tony, I'm so sorry," she said again and again.

"Shhhh, it's okay. Hey, it's okay," he answered, whispering softly in her ear as his strong arms held her close to his chest, "we're okay, Ziva. Me and Tali, we're okay, just like you said. Breathe."

Her breathing slowed down after a couple of minutes, his arms still holding her against him, his hand caressing her hair. They were still at the ground.

"Hey," he said, grabbing her chin and lifting her eyes to look at him, "I know you, Ziva. I know you better than you know yourself."

Brown eyes blinked when green ones didn't look away.

"I just need to understand," he said, kissing her temple and still cradling her gently against his chest.

Ziva took a deep breath and let her body relax in his arms. She looked at Tali, sleeping in the bed. She couldn't face him while telling this.

"One day... One day I was ambushed in Israel, Tali was home, and I was in the streets to get her a new crib. Two men attacked me. I managed to bring them down, and learn from one of them they were sent by a woman to kill me. Her name was Sahar. That same day I packed all Tali's things and contacted Adam..."

"Adam? That Adam, the same Adam?"

"Yes, he's helping me. He's the only one who knows about Tali and Sahar."

"He knew about Tali?"

And Tony didn't. Ziva didn't let her own father know.

"He knew once I needed help. He helped me to get Tali to Ori so she could give her to you. You're the only one I trust to keep her safe, Tony."

Ziva could feel his chest go up and down, sense him processing all her mistakes.

"Okay. Go on," was all he said.

"I left a message in the back of a photo of us in Paris. It was all I could do without anyone suspecting that I was still alive."

Tony let out a sharp laugh, "I almost didn't read it in time."

"But you did."

"But I almost-"

"Tony," she said, looking up to him again. His eyes were troubled as if losing her was worse than betrayal, "they still follow me, wherever I go. She wants me dead. She's watching me like an eagle."

"Hawk."

"What?"

"Nothing," he appeared amused.

"Tali... Tali can't stay with me. She needs you. And before you ask, you cannot. You cannot help me, she needs at least one of her parents..."

"Alive."

"Yes."

Tony sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you come to me when you found out about her? Why didn't..."

"I didn't deserve you, Tony. And you deserved more than a broken woman with a horrible past and a difficult future. I was terrified you were going to be furious and time passed and everything turned more complicated and...

"Ziva...," he said, one hand moving to hold her face and his eyes closing, chest heaving several times, "Ziva, if I knew you were pregnant, I would've been there in a second."

She let her forehead rest on his, eyes closing as well. Silent tears ran down her cheeks again, as she started to think about all that didn't come to pass.

"Tony, I-"

"Abba...?"

Ziva's body tensed again.

"It's okay, sweetcheeks, come here. Someone wants to see you."

Sweetcheeks. The term of endearment he used with her was the same he used with his daughter. Their daughter. It was like a hard slap in the face.

Tali hopped to the ground, still holding Kelev. Ziva gaped at her silently, not daring to breathe. She didn't know if she'd recognize her.

Tali drew closer, her little fingers going up to Ziva's face. She traced her nose, cheeks and mouth, going down to her hair and her bare neck. The necklace she used to grasp as a baby was not there.

Tali pulled something from inside her shirt and squeezed, then framed Ziva's face again. The Star of David. Tony gave it to her, Ziva's necklace. Tears continued to stream down her face.

"Ima...?"

Ziva let out the breath she was holding and wiped her tears swiftly.

"Yes, Tali, it's me. It's Ima."

"Ima!" she said, arms gripping Ziva's neck, demanding to be pulled to her chest.

"Oh, mon Coeur," her mother answered, kissing her hair, nose, cheeks, everywhere she could. She missed her so much, too much.

Strong arms embraced both of them, and Tony kissed Ziva's hair.

"Zee?"

"Hum?"

"How much time do we have?"

Ziva sighed, brought back to reality, "Tonight. And maybe tomorrow morning."

To be a family. A few hours to finally be a family, was all they had.

"Are you going to the opera?"

"Yes."

"Can we come with you?"

Ziva kissed Tali once more as she giggled sweetly in her arms.

"Yes."

Tony smiled as a weight lifted off his shoulders. She'd let him in. She'd finally let him in. He had both of them for the first time. He had the love of his life and the proof of their love in his arms, if only for a moment. He had a family.

"Then it's a date."

chapter 3

#ncis #tiva #tivali #ncis spoilers #ziva david #tony dinozzo #tali david dinozzo #my fics #you know what i didnt like this chapter so much #but at least i could come up eith a few things to explain some plot holes #i hope you dont mind the non canon #anyways #consider this a filler chapter #ALSO NOW IS FOUR IN TOTAL YAY #this got bigger than i've originally envisioned #will write chapter 3 now #could do a whole book about these two #tiva fanficition