Ziva- I'm not alright 14

Chapter XIV

And all I go through, it leads me to you...</b>

Ziva and Tony filled in their reports on the incident and case in silence, without a single paper ball being thrown. Glad though Gibbs was that the required work was actually being done for once, he couldn't stand the heaviness that seemed to be pressing down on them and felt a strange relief when McGee walked in.
“Afternoon Tony, Ziva, afternoon boss.”
They all mumbled a response and McGee looked slightly confused- he hadn't been expecting much from Gibbs but normally Ziva replied politely and Tony made a joke.
“Uh, did I miss much?” he asked as he sat down at his desk. No-one replied so he turned to Tony. “Tony! Did I miss much?”
“Pretty much everything, Probie.” the nickname sounded half-hearted.
“What, you wrap up the entire case?”
“Yeah, actually. It was that woman you found with your geek stuff. Jilted lover. He was trying to immigrate.”
“Fleeing from Mossad.” Ziva interrupted, although she seemed to be talking to herself.
Tony and McGee both cast her an odd look but she didn't look up from her papers, so Tony finished explaining what had happened before handing McGee what was probably more than his fair share of paperwork.
No-one spoke for the rest of the day, save for a few awkward attempts by McGee to start conversation, which were made impossible by the glares Ziva kept shooting Tony and the distracted look she wore the rest of the time. Eventually they handed in their reports one by one, first Ziva, then McGee and, considerably later, Tony. Gibbs flicked through them quickly, let McGee go home, made Ziva rewrite some of the slightly more illegible sections, and pointed out to Tony he'd missed quite a lot of the double-sided pages out. Ziva swiftly altered hers and handed them back in, leaving with a soft goodbye to Gibbs and not so much as a glance at her partner.
Tony carried on working, giving worried looks at Ziva's desk which drove Gibbs up the wall.
“DiNozzo.” the grey-haired man spoke softly.
“Yeah boss?”
“Come here.”
Tony shuffled his papers and picked them up, walking towards Gibbs' desk as though it was the high school principal's.
“Boss, I'm sorry, I haven't really finished yet, but I'll get them-”
“Don't apologise. It's a sign-”
“Of weakness.” Tony joined in and Gibbs allowed himself a little smile.
“You aren't going to get any work done if you spend most of your time staring at Ziva's desk.”
“Right. Yeah, I'll stop that. Stop that.” he muttered, turning to leave.
“Hey, DiNozzo! Give me those reports.” Tony looked at him in  surprise.
“Go home, call her, sort it out, whatever.”
“But boss, she's-”
“I don't want to hear about it. Fix it.” Gibbs pulled the papers out of Tony's hands and glared at him until he went to his desk, grabbing his stuff and heading for the elevator. He stopped right in front of the doors, turning back to his boss.
“Um, Gibbs?”
Gibbs merely looked at him.
“What if I can't?”
Again, Gibbs did not use words to convey his meaning, and Tony turned and stepped into the elevator, feeling his stomach gripped with what felt strangely like nerves.
* * *
As Tony drove home he mused over what his best options were. Or at least, the ones that didn't end up with Ziva mad at him, inflicting bodily harm on him, ignoring him or all of  the above. Gibbs had told him to call her, but that would be awkward; he'd have to explain why he called and they'd be forced to talk straight away seeing as that's sort of what phones are for. And she'd probably just hang up. No, he needed to corner her, but under the pretence of something else. Something that meant he could try and get her to stop hating him before he attempted deep conversations, so basically bribery. He grinned. He knew exactly how to do this.
* * *
Half an hour later Tony was standing on Ziva's doorstep, pizza in one hand and a movie in the other. “Here goes.” he muttered, ringing the bell and trying not to drop anything. He waited for a while, and was about to turn and leave when he saw the peep-hole darken. It took another few seconds before the door opened, and he knew she'd been contemplating ignoring him.
“Tony. What are you doing here?”  her voice was quiet and scratchy; her eyes were swollen and underlined with dark bags; her hair had obviously just been washed but not dried or brushed and she was wearing baggy tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt. Basically, she did not look good.
“It's nice to see you too.” Tony tried to step around her and get inside but she blocked the doorway.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here.” she hissed.
“Relax, I just thought we could watch a movie together, y'know, celebrate the end of the case, keep your mind off things.” He tried to swallow back the last phrase but it was too late. However, she reluctantly let him in, murmuring, “I do not need to keep my mind off anything.”
Tony decided to let that go for now, heading towards the kitchen to get them some drinks. Left standing in her hallway Ziva looked around for a moment before heading to the sofa and sitting down. When Tony brought the pizza, drinks and movie in a few minutes later she was sitting, staring into space and obviously lost in thought. Silently he placed the pizza box  and drinks on the table, and was going to do the same with the movie but figured it might be easier for them both if it was playing, so he put it in the DVD slot.
Grabbing the remote from beside the TV, he sat down next to Ziva.
“Are you any less mad at me now?” he didn't look at her, he couldn't. She didn't reply so he turned his attention to the screen, entering 'English' as the language and for once reading the copyright notice, to avoid looking meeting a gaze he was sure would be furious. But as the intense feeling of Ziva glaring at him grew he gave in and turned to her. To his surprise, she wasn't glaring, and instead her eyes seemed slightly wet with tears. She let a small smile blush across her lips and finally answered his question. “I was never mad at you, Tony. It's typical that you would think that.” she sounded slightly irritated, but nothing on the scale of about 5 minutes ago.
“Well, you were certainly mad at someone. And still are.”
Ziva recognised the softer voice Tony used when he was being serious, as though he was unsure of himself, and was grateful that he cared. But she wasn't going to break down again, she thought, remembering the previous night. She'd just have to answer calmly.
“I guess I was mad.”
“At someone.”
“I didn't say that.”
“I did.”
She tried to scowl at him but she couldn't quite manage it, laughing slightly instead.
“Tony, you are so annoying sometimes it's incredible.”
He opened his mouth to reply but she placed a finger on his lips “I know it's just your way of caring, and I'm grateful, but you don't need to worry about me.”
“It's not like I asked to.” he managed to push her finger away. “But unfortunately for you, I do, so you're going to have to explain one way or the other.”
“What is the other?” she leaned in, flirting with him in a vain attempt to distract him.
“Officer David. Save that for later. Who were you mad at?”
Realising Tony wasn't going to give up she decided to reply truthfully.
“Myself.” she uttered in a tiny voice. Tony found himself inexplicably assaulted with the image of a small girl, huddled in the corner of a dark room, trying to ignore the yells and screams coming from outside.
“Ziva, it's not-”
“Don't bother. It is my fault. Ratib was fleeing from Mossad, aka me, and that's what killed him.”
“One psycho woman deciding to take things into her own hands definitely isn't your fault. As for the other stuff...we had this conversation yesterday. Do you want me to repeat what I said? You were under orders, you were living in the midst of terror attacks and war and did not want to allow anything to slip past you, you-”
“I don't want to talk about it again.” Ziva interrupted bluntly.
“I'm not agreeing it's your fault, 'cause it's not, but if you're sure you don't want to talk...?”
Ziva nodded mutely.
“Okay, so long as it's just Ratib.”
“It is. And I will be alright soon. I'm sorry for being such a bolt-up.”
Tony debated correcting her, but decided it wouldn't serve much purpose.
“Don't apologise, we all are sometimes.” he thought darkly back to his own periods of self-blame before continuing. “I'll stop bugging you then... so long as you are alright soon. And I'll be here if you do want anything.”
She nodded gratefully and leaned onto his shoulder, whispering. “Thanks, Tony.”
Deciding she needed it, and he didn't care what it may or may not mean to him, he casually wrapped an arm round her shoulders and pressed play.
They watched the film in silence, but this time a comfortable one, and although Tony wasn't sure how much either of them took in he was glad he could do something for his troubled partner, and she was glad not to be alone with her thoughts.
When the credits finally stopped rolling Tony switched the TV off and looked down at the woman who had fallen asleep in his arms. Right now, he thought, she could have been any woman; the peaceful look on her face did not give away any of her past, and she looked younger than she had for the past few days. She also didn't seem like his partner, or even his friend, not when he was finding it so strangely pleasing to watch her sleep in his embrace, and he finally admitted to himself, somewhere in his mind, that he wanted more than friendship from her. He wouldn't say he was in love, it was far too soon to think about that, but he wanted to make her happy, and to be happy with her.
_{He reached down and gently brushed aside a curl that had fallen over her face, running his hand along her cheek as he did so. And then, following sheer impulse, he bent over and lightly touched his lips against hers.}