Fic: Shattered (Tony-centric) 5/?
Title: Shattered
Author: justhowthisgoes
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Angst
Pairing: Tiva
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Tony can't sleep. He's worried about Ziva. Post-Aliyah angsty ficlets. Was a one-shot, but now extended to a multi-chapter by popular request.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Read: No It Isn't
No survivors.
The words echoed, reverberated in his head.
No survivors.
They rattled around in his mind like marbles in a jar.
No survivors.
They played back again, more slowly, as if that could possibly help him grasp the significance.
No survivors.
What could that mean?
What did it mean?
No: 1. an adjective used to indicate that there is not any or not one person or thing. 2. a negative response, used to refuse, deny, or disagree with something. 3. an interjection used to indicate shock, disbelief, or disappointment at something somebody has said.
Survivor: 1. one who remains alive despite being exposed to life-threatening danger. 2. one who shows a great will to live or a great determination to overcome difficulties and carry on.
The definition wasn’t helping.
His brain tried to make sense of the words, but couldn’t.
Or wouldn’t.
Not together. Not in that context.
No survivors.
How could that possibly be?
She had been a survivor.
Had been.
He was thinking in the past tense.
Why was he thinking in the past tense?
It couldn't be.
She couldn't.
He-
He was suddenly overcome as it sunk in.
Stunned into absolute silence.
Unable to think, to move, to breathe, to do anything other than take apart those words and what was behind them.
No survivors.
No.
Survivors.
None.
No survivors, no Ziva.
No Ziva.
He felt dazed. Was dazed considered a feeling?
He was frozen.
Numb.
Anesthetized to the world.
He vaguely thought that maybe that should scare him, or at least bother him a little.
But it didn’t.
He couldn’t bring himself to feel even that.
It was only right that he felt nothing.
Nothing was all that was left.
He could no longer even feel that steady throbbing pain in his chest that he had grown used to all these months. That he had come to associate with her.
It was gone.
There was only one explanation.
His heart must be gone too.
Had been since that day on that tarmac in Israel.
He’d just been fooling himself when he thought that he could survive, when he thought that he could go on without her.
He couldn’t.
She was dead and his heart with her.
Buried forever in a watery grave.
Sunk deep in the waves off the coast of Africa.
Gone forever.
He couldn't think.
Didn't want to either. He knew what he would think of and he knew how much it would hurt. Surely no feeling at all was better than that.
He couldn't move.
Well, of course he couldn’t move. It only made sense. Dead men can’t, you know.
He couldn’t breathe.
It wasn’t like the plague though. He had wanted to breathe then, had fought for it, had struggled for each precious gasp of air.
But not now.
Breathing was a luxury reserved for the living.
And how could he possibly be alive?
How could a man live without a heart?
All logic, all reason, all sense said he couldn’t.
And so, he didn’t.
He had ceased to live at that moment.
He now merely existed, if existence was indeed the correct term for what he went about now.
He may have appeared to be alive, but he was like a wax figure in a museum.
A pale, lifeless copy of himself.
Like a robot.
Mechanical.
He was on auto-pilot.
He didn’t understand; he only reacted.
He followed his programming reflexively, unconsciously, blankly.
The world seemed to whirl around him as he alone stood still.
The sun rose and set without him; it didn’t recognize her absence or require his participation.
Time passed.
He didn’t know how long.
Didn’t care.
He was falling.
Slowly falling.
Slipping away.
Into the void.
The void of her lack.
There was nothing.
The nothing that he was doing.
The nothing that he was feeling.
Complete and utter nothingness.
Emptiness.
Hollow.
Abyss.
Oblivion.
...
He hit bottom.
...
Chapter 6
Author: justhowthisgoes
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Angst
Pairing: Tiva
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Tony can't sleep. He's worried about Ziva. Post-Aliyah angsty ficlets. Was a one-shot, but now extended to a multi-chapter by popular request.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Read: No It Isn't
No survivors.
The words echoed, reverberated in his head.
No survivors.
They rattled around in his mind like marbles in a jar.
No survivors.
They played back again, more slowly, as if that could possibly help him grasp the significance.
No survivors.
What could that mean?
What did it mean?
No: 1. an adjective used to indicate that there is not any or not one person or thing. 2. a negative response, used to refuse, deny, or disagree with something. 3. an interjection used to indicate shock, disbelief, or disappointment at something somebody has said.
Survivor: 1. one who remains alive despite being exposed to life-threatening danger. 2. one who shows a great will to live or a great determination to overcome difficulties and carry on.
The definition wasn’t helping.
His brain tried to make sense of the words, but couldn’t.
Or wouldn’t.
Not together. Not in that context.
No survivors.
How could that possibly be?
She had been a survivor.
Had been.
He was thinking in the past tense.
Why was he thinking in the past tense?
It couldn't be.
She couldn't.
He-
He was suddenly overcome as it sunk in.
Stunned into absolute silence.
Unable to think, to move, to breathe, to do anything other than take apart those words and what was behind them.
No survivors.
No.
Survivors.
None.
No survivors, no Ziva.
No Ziva.
He felt dazed. Was dazed considered a feeling?
He was frozen.
Numb.
Anesthetized to the world.
He vaguely thought that maybe that should scare him, or at least bother him a little.
But it didn’t.
He couldn’t bring himself to feel even that.
It was only right that he felt nothing.
Nothing was all that was left.
He could no longer even feel that steady throbbing pain in his chest that he had grown used to all these months. That he had come to associate with her.
It was gone.
There was only one explanation.
His heart must be gone too.
Had been since that day on that tarmac in Israel.
He’d just been fooling himself when he thought that he could survive, when he thought that he could go on without her.
He couldn’t.
She was dead and his heart with her.
Buried forever in a watery grave.
Sunk deep in the waves off the coast of Africa.
Gone forever.
He couldn't think.
Didn't want to either. He knew what he would think of and he knew how much it would hurt. Surely no feeling at all was better than that.
He couldn't move.
Well, of course he couldn’t move. It only made sense. Dead men can’t, you know.
He couldn’t breathe.
It wasn’t like the plague though. He had wanted to breathe then, had fought for it, had struggled for each precious gasp of air.
But not now.
Breathing was a luxury reserved for the living.
And how could he possibly be alive?
How could a man live without a heart?
All logic, all reason, all sense said he couldn’t.
And so, he didn’t.
He had ceased to live at that moment.
He now merely existed, if existence was indeed the correct term for what he went about now.
He may have appeared to be alive, but he was like a wax figure in a museum.
A pale, lifeless copy of himself.
Like a robot.
Mechanical.
He was on auto-pilot.
He didn’t understand; he only reacted.
He followed his programming reflexively, unconsciously, blankly.
The world seemed to whirl around him as he alone stood still.
The sun rose and set without him; it didn’t recognize her absence or require his participation.
Time passed.
He didn’t know how long.
Didn’t care.
He was falling.
Slowly falling.
Slipping away.
Into the void.
The void of her lack.
There was nothing.
The nothing that he was doing.
The nothing that he was feeling.
Complete and utter nothingness.
Emptiness.
Hollow.
Abyss.
Oblivion.
...
He hit bottom.
...
Chapter 6