Too Late - 3: Ziva
Author's Note: This is a fic I wrote a while back, a little before "Bounce" aired that was reflecting my dislike about the direction the show was taking in regards to Tony and Ziva. It is pure angst in four parts, though there is definitely a ray of sunlight at the end.
The third chapter was my first attempt at a Ziva POV and an attempt to explain (at least to myself) why she had gone from basically throwing herself at Tony to pushing him away. Plus, I wanted to write her as an adult, not a tween in the midst of her first crush like season 4 sometimes did to her. I tried to leave it open-ended enough for any possible interpretation (good or bad), but the Muse wouldn't let me go just yet.
And this is quite obviously AU.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
The comment tumbled from Ziva’s lips before she was fully aware of having spoken and broke the uncomfortable silence that had enveloped the bullpen since Gibbs and McGee left for the evening two hours earlier. Across from her, his face set in the resolute mask he had taken to wearing over the last several weeks - or was it months? She wasn’t quite sure when he had turned into this unsmiling caricature of himself - Tony grunted softly in response, not quite looking up from his computer monitor. For a moment, Ziva wondered if he was truly working on his report or if he was simply seeking busy work that would prevent him from actually replying.
“Tony,” she said, frustration and concern in her voice as she tried to get him to look at her, to meet her eyes, to show some sign of the friendship they had built over the years since she first came to NCIS.
“In case you didn’t notice, I’m kind of busy at the moment, Officer David,” he replied calmly, and Ziva wanted to scream at how he addressed her. Gone were the ridiculous nicknames she’d grown to enjoy, or even the over-enunciation of her first name. She had learned to hate ‘Officer David.’
“Why won’t you talk to me?” she asked, aware of the tone of pleading in her voice and hating it only a little. Tony glanced up, a cold but impossibly sad expression on his face, and Ziva swallowed at the flash of quickly hidden emotion that flared within DiNozzo’s eyes.
“You set the rules for this game after your little vacation,” he said calmly, “so I’m simply following your lead.” He returned his attention to his monitor and, for a moment, all she could hear was the rapid click-click-click of his fingers upon the keyboard. Ziva frowned as she considered his comments before sighing as comprehension dawned.
This was entirely her fault.
“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to find anything else to say. When Tony didn’t respond, Ziva bit her lower lip and wondered how to make this right.
There were depressingly few options.
This uncomfortable tension between them had begun almost as soon as Vance broke up the team in the wake of Jenny’s death. Tony had taken the reassignment hard, clearly blaming himself for getting Shepard killed despite the evidence to the contrary. Jenny had given them explicitly direct orders to stay out of her private business, but DiNozzo seemed to share Vance’s belief that he was responsible and had retreated into the bottle to cope with his guilt. To her continuing shame, Ziva hadn’t provided him with enough moral support in the aftermath, and instead had allowed him to take another step on his road to Gibbshood.
Her return to Israel had been more difficult than she expected it could be, and turning to Michael had seemed a logical decision at the time. They had a long-standing arrangement dating back to their years in the IDF - Tony would call it ‘friends-with-benefits’ - and Ziva had used her old lover to work through her own anger and guilt and dismay over Jenny’s death much as she had after Ari’s death. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Michael wanted to turn their arrangement into something more substantial with an eye toward possible marriage, not with his hopes pinned on an eventual directorship, but it had, and in those early weeks following her return to Mossad, Ziva had needed someone to cling to while she grieved for yet another loss. Convinced that she would never again set foot on American soil or see Anthony DiNozzo again no matter what Gibbs said, she accepted Michael’s offer that they explore an actual relationship. It wasn’t love - not yet, anyway - but knowing that he truly wanted her for more than a few nights’ pleasure was comforting even if his reasoning was cold-blooded, and she thought she could grow to cherish him in time. At least he was honest about what he hoped for or felt, something that Tony had never been. Ziva still didn’t know how exactly she fit in DiNozzo’s life.
Not wanting to spend a single day in that frustrating limbo she’d wallowed in while Tony dated the Benoit woman or recovered from breaking both of their hearts - all three of them, herself included, Ziva glumly admitted - she had forced herself to stop responding to his teases or taunts, and began treating him like just another co-worker. It had been hard - it still was in a lot of ways - but was completely necessary for her to move on.
Unfortunately, it had the effect of making Tony hate her.
Oh, she didn’t think he truly hated her, but their easy rapport and trust had gone by the wayside in recent weeks - she idly wondered if that idiom was correct; Tony would know, but she couldn’t ask him, not anymore. More often than not, whenever DiNozzo interacted with her now, he wouldn’t even meet her eyes and there was always an undertone of anger, of pain, of sadness. Gibbs had obviously picked up on the problem if his continued pairing of her with Tim was any indication, but Ziva didn’t know what the older agent thought about the mess she found herself in with Tony. She sighed.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” she asked softly. “Will you give me the quiet treatment from now on?” Her misuse of an English idiom was intentional and she found herself holding her breath in anticipation of his response. When he didn’t bother to correct her - its ‘silent treatment,’ Zee-vah, her imagination filled in - she glowered at him. At least when he was Jeanne, he actually talked to her.
“I was on assignment!” Tony abruptly snapped, eyes flashing with anger, and Ziva realized she had actually verbalized her thought about Benoit. It was the most emotion she’d seen from him in weeks. “I thought you of all people would understand that!” Her own temper flared in response - she hated how he was able to so easily incite this response in her - and a bitter retort tumbled from her lips.
“You are my partner!” Ziva growled. “You should have told me what was going on!”
“Do you think I wanted to lie?” Tony snarled. “The director gave me a direct order: tell no one. Not you, not Gibbs, not even my damned priest!” His face was red with long pent-up fury. “So I was doing what I was told.”
“And after?” she asked. Her own anger seemed to vanish like smoke in the wind at the realization that she really couldn’t blame him. For all the heartache and worry his mission with Jeanne had caused her, Ziva silently acknowledged that it was more Jenny’s fault than his. He was on a covert, undercover assignment, and she simply hadn’t been authorized to know the details. How many people had she lied to over the years for that very reason? Tali certainly never knew her older sister was training to kill people for Mossad, so blaming Tony for something that had been out of his hands seemed incredibly juvenile.
“I was trying to get my head on straight,” he admitted bitterly. “I lied to you and Gibbs and McGee, and I was trying to regain your trust.”
“You never lost it,” Ziva pointed out, and DiNozzo snorted.
“Yes, I did,” he said flatly. “And you never let me forget it.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I won’t be your problem for much longer.”
Icy shock washed through her, and Ziva froze in place. She stared at Tony for a long moment, struggling to find the words that could not seem to escape her lips.
“What?” she croaked. Her muscles would not obey and she sat there, unable to move. Surely he didn’t mean what it sounded like he meant.
“Director Vance has offered me a position in San Diego,” Tony said calmly. “It isn’t what I had hoped for,” he continued, “and isn’t really a promotion as much as a lateral transfer, but I’m going to accept it.” The smile that crossed his lips didn’t come close to touching his eyes and reminded her more of a grimace than anything else. “It’s about time I moved on anyway,” DiNozzo added before frowning. “I should have taken the Rota promotion when Jenny offered it,” he muttered under his breath, the comment clearly not meant for Ziva’s ears.
“You’re leaving?” she asked in stunned disbelief. He gave her a bitter look.
“It’s for the best,” Tony declared, and she wondered who he was trying to convince. “You’ve moved on,” he said, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, “so it’s time for me to do the same.” The implications of his comment hit her like a runaway train.
“Moved on?” Ziva repeated though the dull fog that had wrapped around her brain. She couldn’t think! This had to be a nightmare, like the one she’d had last week where Ari shot Gibbs in front of her and then took a knife to Tony and started cutting and Tony started screaming and … “You’re leaving?” she repeated.
“That’s what a transfer means, Officer David,” DiNozzo said sharply. He banged away on his keyboard for a moment, and Ziva swallowed her surprise.
“Does Gibbs know?” she asked.
“Of course he does,” came the quick response. “Gibbs knows everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he helped set it up.” That came as a surprise.
“Why?” Ziva asked. Her brain seemed frozen on a single thought: Tony’s leaving!
“Because he knows I’m not happy here.” DiNozzo finished whatever it was he was working on and began shutting down his computer. “In two weeks,” he added as he gathered his belongings, “I’ll be out of your hair forever and you can start getting on with your life without having to spend so much time avoiding me.”
“Tony…” He spoke over her, once more looking in her direction but not looking at her. A sharp pain lanced through her side and a ridiculous thought surged forward: this is what a broken heart feels like.
“I really hope you find what you’re looking for with Officer Rivkin,” Tony said carefully. That he knew Michael’s name was a surprise - she had avoided identifying him for reasons she still didn’t quite understand. “After all the crap you’ve gone through in your life,” DiNozzo added, “you deserve to be happy.” He killed the power to his monitor and started for the elevator.
“Wait!” Ziva called out. She jumped to her feet even as her cell phone began buzzing; she knew it was Michael without bothering to look at it - he always called her at this time - but she ignored the phone bouncing on her desk as she pursued Tony to the elevator. He studied her warily as he waited for the doors to open, and, for the first time, Ziva realized just how tired he appeared. She’d mentioned how much older he appeared when they were aboard the Seahawk a lifetime ago, but he seemed to have aged a decade in just several months. I did this, she realized with a flicker of despair. In trying to protect herself from hurt, she’d inflicted pain on a man she already knew to have emotional issues thanks to his abusive childhood. “Why?” she asked softly. “Why are you leaving?” Tony smiled - the sad smile of a broken man - and backed into the elevator.
“You know why,” he replied. His eyes met hers, and Ziva flinched at the unhidden emotion lurking there. “Goodbye, Ziva,” Tony said as the doors slid shut upon them and their friendship. As if to punctuate the moment, her cell began buzzing once more. She glanced once at her desk before looking quickly in the direction of the nearby stairwell. Tony or Michael? There was only room in her life for one of them.
It was the hardest decision she had ever made.