Agent Found
Title: Agent Found
Length/Word Count: 499
Pairing/Characters: Gibbs, Ziva
Prompt: 219. Comfort for ncisdrabble100
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox ... I'm just playing in it. I'll clean up when I'm done.
Summary: Gibbs and Ziva talk. Takes place after 8x24 Pyramid
Gibbs stepped slowly down his basement stairs and saw a familiar form sitting on his work bench, drinking from a mason jar. He had been sure that he would find his missing agent down here. He crossed the floor and gently and placed his hand on Ziva’s shoulder. She didn’t look up, but did hand a second jar of amber liquor to him. He took a sip and waited.
She ran her finger over a scrap of leftover wood. “He knew.”
Gibbs nodded. “He wanted to go out of his own terms instead of suffering.”
“Like Jenny.” Her words hung in the air.
Gibbs walked in front of her and met her tearstained eyes. “They were both a lot alike. Loyal, devoted, good partners. Good people.”
“Promise me.” Ziva said, the tears falling from her eyes.
“Anything Ziver.” He said, his heart breaking a little at her tears.
“Do not be a hero. Do not run to danger looking to die. Please prove to me that dying old, that dying without being shot or stabbed or worse, is possible.”
Gibbs wrapped his arms around her and held her as her shoulders shook from the weight of her sorrow.
“I am sorry I was not there, but I could not.” Ziva pulled away. “Jenny was the last. I could not. I did not even go to Michael’s.”
“Why?” Gibbs asked gently, refilling her glass.
“I have seen too many people die. Too many people lowered into the ground.” She bit back tears. “I spent three months in my own grave.”
Gibbs watched in silence as she brushed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She never talked about Somalia, and it was easy to pretend it hadn’t happened. But he was sure there were scars that ran deeper that she would never reveal or forget.
“Is anyone mad at me?” She whispered.
Gibbs shook his head. “No. Just worried. You may want to call Tony.”
She looked up at him and nodded.
“Not everyone dies early.”
“I have never been to a funeral where someone died naturally.” Ziva said softly. “Never. One day I would like to.”
One day you will. One day you’ll see.”
She met his eyes. “Promise me that will be you. You’ll grow old, play with grandkids, and go peacefully.”
Gibbs raised his eyebrow. “Grandkids?”
“Mine and Tony’s and Abby and McGee’s.” she paused and blushed. “I mean...”
Gibbs nodded, watching the flush creep up to her ears. He did indeed know. He ruffled her hair with a grin. “I know what you mean.”
Ziva nodded, and looked at him. “Promise?”
Gibbs nodded and watched as a soft smile crossed her face. He knew it was a promise that he may not be able to keep, but he knew for her sake, and for the sake of his team, it was a promise he would try to keep.
He handed her a sanding block and a piece of wood. “Dollhouse. For Amira.”
**Remember ... comments are love, and they keep my plot bunnies fed!**
Length/Word Count: 499
Pairing/Characters: Gibbs, Ziva
Prompt: 219. Comfort for ncisdrabble100
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox ... I'm just playing in it. I'll clean up when I'm done.
Summary: Gibbs and Ziva talk. Takes place after 8x24 Pyramid
Gibbs stepped slowly down his basement stairs and saw a familiar form sitting on his work bench, drinking from a mason jar. He had been sure that he would find his missing agent down here. He crossed the floor and gently and placed his hand on Ziva’s shoulder. She didn’t look up, but did hand a second jar of amber liquor to him. He took a sip and waited.
She ran her finger over a scrap of leftover wood. “He knew.”
Gibbs nodded. “He wanted to go out of his own terms instead of suffering.”
“Like Jenny.” Her words hung in the air.
Gibbs walked in front of her and met her tearstained eyes. “They were both a lot alike. Loyal, devoted, good partners. Good people.”
“Promise me.” Ziva said, the tears falling from her eyes.
“Anything Ziver.” He said, his heart breaking a little at her tears.
“Do not be a hero. Do not run to danger looking to die. Please prove to me that dying old, that dying without being shot or stabbed or worse, is possible.”
Gibbs wrapped his arms around her and held her as her shoulders shook from the weight of her sorrow.
“I am sorry I was not there, but I could not.” Ziva pulled away. “Jenny was the last. I could not. I did not even go to Michael’s.”
“Why?” Gibbs asked gently, refilling her glass.
“I have seen too many people die. Too many people lowered into the ground.” She bit back tears. “I spent three months in my own grave.”
Gibbs watched in silence as she brushed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She never talked about Somalia, and it was easy to pretend it hadn’t happened. But he was sure there were scars that ran deeper that she would never reveal or forget.
“Is anyone mad at me?” She whispered.
Gibbs shook his head. “No. Just worried. You may want to call Tony.”
She looked up at him and nodded.
“Not everyone dies early.”
“I have never been to a funeral where someone died naturally.” Ziva said softly. “Never. One day I would like to.”
One day you will. One day you’ll see.”
She met his eyes. “Promise me that will be you. You’ll grow old, play with grandkids, and go peacefully.”
Gibbs raised his eyebrow. “Grandkids?”
“Mine and Tony’s and Abby and McGee’s.” she paused and blushed. “I mean...”
Gibbs nodded, watching the flush creep up to her ears. He did indeed know. He ruffled her hair with a grin. “I know what you mean.”
Ziva nodded, and looked at him. “Promise?”
Gibbs nodded and watched as a soft smile crossed her face. He knew it was a promise that he may not be able to keep, but he knew for her sake, and for the sake of his team, it was a promise he would try to keep.
He handed her a sanding block and a piece of wood. “Dollhouse. For Amira.”
**Remember ... comments are love, and they keep my plot bunnies fed!**