Categories > TV > NCIS > All I Wanna Do . . .
She drove around aimlessly for a while, not sure where she was going or even where she wanted to go. Ziva stopped the car—finally—and somehow wasn't surprised to find herself outside her home. In a daze, she made her way up the front steps and through the building to her apartment. Once inside, she turned and slid down the side of the door. Sitting down with her knees drawn up to her chest, Ziva hung her head and wrapped her arms around her legs. How could this have happened? Well, she knew how it happened, but . . .
Why? she asked herself. Why did I do what I did?
Even as she thought it, she realized she didn't have an answer.
...
The rapping at her door snapped her awake—and sent her tumbling off the couch onto the floor as she reached for her weapon and overextended. Ziva didn't remember lying on the couch or falling asleep, but she must have. Anyway, she lurched to her feet, grabbing for her gun, and went to the door, hoping it wasn't Tony or Michael. She didn't want to see either of them right now.
Of course, she couldn't be that lucky. Sighing, she opened the door an inch. She hissed, "What are you doing here?"
Rivkin shouldered the door open further and stepped inside. "I wanted to see you, Ziva." He moved closer to her, rested one hand on her arm, and traced the other along her jawline. Her mind whirled; instead of Michael she was seeing Tony, replaying that night a month ago. When Rivkin brought her face centimeters away from his, she jerked free of his grip. Puzzled, he stepped back and released her. "Is something wrong?"
"I just want to be by myself right now," she said. Well, it's part of the truth. The rest was that, now, every time he touched her, she didn't see him but the man whose child she was now carrying. Eventually she'd have to tell Michael about the baby. Just not today.
Her Mossad boyfriend nodded. "Okay." Not wanting to be drop-kicked out the window where he'd most likely end up falling to his death, he turned and left. Just like that.
It wasn't until she heard his vehicle start up and roar out of sight that she allowed herself to relax.
The ringing of her cell phone broke the quiet and made her jump. Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she checked the caller I.D. DiNozzo. Ziva ignored it and trudged into her bedroom. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep.
And as she slept, she dreamed.
Raindrops pattered relentlessly against the windowpane but quickly faded to background noise; Ziva was much more interested in tormenting Tony. She leaned over him, nuzzling him, then blazed a trail down his abdomen. He groaned and jerked upward in response as her lips traced the soft skin of his throat. Somehow—she didn't really know how or when—he flipped her over. Now Tony was the one on top, teasing her, threatening to push her over the edge. It seemed to go on forever, both of them constantly changing positions. Ziva didn't mind; she was reveling in the taste, the smell, the feel of him.
Then he was inside her . . .
Ziva woke with a start, bolting upright, gasping. Her sheets were soaked with sweat. Heart thumping, she looked around wildly, half expecting Tony to be in the room with her. Relief crashed through her when she confirmed she was alone.
The dream pricked at her conscience. Yet it wasn't just a dream: it was a memory.
Desperation clawed at her heart. She had to leave. Ziva couldn't be at work now, what with her condition. There was another reason, one she was scared to admit: She didn't know how she could keep it a secret without anyone on Team Gibbs finding out—especially Tony. The note had probably clued him in, but knowing him, he might not make the connection. Then again, the senior field agent had the most dirty mind. Add to the fact that she hadn't slept with anyone since then . . . Yes, if she stayed her secret was in danger of being discovered. There was only one thing that came to mind.
Fumbling for her cell, Ziva hit one of the numbers on speed dial and listened to the other phone ringing. When the person picked up, she said, "Michael, do you know of any safe houses nearby?"
...
The months flew by like leaves in the wind. It was now November and Ziva's daughter had been born two months previously. She'd never told Michael who the father was, only that she'd been expecting, and let him assume Sarah was his. Ziva didn't like lying to him, but this was yet another secret she had to keep.
In the past few months, she'd severed all her ties with NCIS and gone underground, thinking it was best to let Gibbs, Ducky, Vance, Tony, Tim, and Abby to think she'd died or gone back to Israel. Ziva had retreated to a safe house Mossad had used in the past, one her teammates had no knowledge of, and only made transactions when she'd needed to in cash. The safe house was deep in the woods, practically in the middle of nowhere, and she was as content as she could be while missing her NCIS friends and taking care of her daughter.
Fate had other plans.
One cool, autumn afternoon, Ziva was on her way to what she now thought of as her home when she saw the familiar NCIS truck and the black Chargers. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the field agents: her old team.
Without really thinking about it, Ziva pulled over and, shooting a quick glance at Sarah in the backseat, hopped out of the car. The sound of the car door slamming shut alerted Team Gibbs to her presence and their heads swiveled as one in her direction.
Under their stares, Ziva had to fight the sudden urge to turn tail. Then McGee came walking towards her. "I'm sorry, miss, but you're going to have to leave. This is a crime scene."
She didn't move; just stood there and studied him with her head tilted to the side. "You don't remember me, McGee?"
Sudden recognition flared in his eyes. "Ziva? You're alive?"
She nodded and said with biting sarcasm, "Obviously."
"But . . . we thought you were dead," he stammered, obviously flustered.
Attracted by the attention, Tony and Gibbs were now coming over. The team leader said gravely, "Ziva, what are you doing here?"
"I was on my way home and saw you guys," she replied. The Israeli was deliberately avoiding Tony's gaze, which was trained on her like a dog on a rabbit. Gibbs, of course, immediately picked up on the tension between his senior field agent and Mossad officer and went back to the body.
DiNozzo gently lifted her face so she was looking him in the eyes. "Ziva," he said, "what happened? Why'd you leave?"
She hesitated, then murmured, "Follow me. There's something you should see." The Israeli started back to her red Mini Cooper, the movie-loving agent on her six.
"Ziva, what's going—?" Tony broke off as she opened the back door, exposing the two-month-old girl in the carrier. Sensing she was being watched, the child turned her head so she was looking at the adults. Her eyes were the same shade of green as DiNozzo's.
Watching him, Ziva saw the surprise flare in Tony's eyes and he made a strangled sound. He choked, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did," she said flatly. Her voice took on a pleading tone. "But Tony, please, please understand. I'm in love with another man, and what he couldn't give me was the one little thing that you can."
Tony's eyes took on a look of stunned disbelief and he raised a hand to his temple in an absentminded way. "God, Ziva. How do you—" He broke off abruptly as the ex-sniper came over. Gibbs asked, "Is there a problem here?"
Then the silver-haired agent saw the child in the backseat and his gaze flew to the Israeli and Italian. "I see," was all he said.
Ziva swallowed hard. "Gibbs, please forgive me. I had to. It was—"
"Don't you dare say it was for the best, Ziva," Gibbs snapped. "We thought you were dead, and you've been here all this time! And for what? So you could save your own skin? I never figured you for a coward."
"I'm not," she replied in a soft, hard voice. "And it wasn't just me I was saving." Her eyes flicked meaningfully to her daughter, then back at him. "You of all people should know that."
They all knew what she meant. Gibbs had lost his wife, Shannon, and his daughter, Kelly, and gone after their murderer. He'd taken out Mexican drug dealer Pedro Hernandez with a single sniper shot to the forehead through the windshield of his pickup truck. Ziva could see those memories in Gibbs' eye now.
Finally the team leader inclined his head. His eyes meeting hers, he said, "You're always welcome back at NCIS. I'd be glad to have you on my team again." Then, as if nothing had happened, he began heading back to crime scene and Ducky, Palmer, and Co.
Once he was gone, Ziva shut the car door and forced herself to meet Tony's eyes—again. Those green orbs were unreadable and she found it hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Anger? Disappointment? Maybe both? There was no way for her to tell, but the more she studied him the more she could feel her old desire rising. Desperately she clamped down on it; giving in to her feelings was what had put her in this situation in the first place. God, why did he have to be so irresistible? Again, she heard that song playing in her mind: One night of love was all we knew/All I want to do is make love to you/Come on, say you will, you want me too.
As if he knew what she was thinking, a corner of DiNozzo's mouth hitched up in what could have passed for a smile. It faded before Ziva could decide if she'd actually seen it. While she was pondering over that, his lips brushed against hers, so light that she almost hadn't felt it. He said quietly, "I'm here for you, Ziva, if you need me. So is the rest of the team." Before she could respond, he was walking away. The dark storm clouds that had been threatening overhead suddenly burst open, sending a steady drizzle down along with mist. It didn't take long for the NCIS team to finish processing and securing the scene and leave. Ziva noticed that Gibbs was driving by himself, leaving Tony to ride with McGee. She would have waited until they'd left, but the rain forced her into her car. Gunning the engine, she pulled away, intending to go to the safe house before moving back to her apartment.
...
Tony and Tim drove along the road in silence. The probie was the first one to speak. "What happened with Ziva, Tony?"
"Remember that note she left months ago?" DiNozzo glanced to his right so he could gauge McGee's reaction. Elf Lord nodded, a slightly disgusted look flashing across his face. "Thanks for reminding— Oh. So that's why she left."
"Yes."
"Abby's gonna be happy for the two of you when she realizes she was right."
Tony scoffed. "More like she's gonna be so hopped up on Caf-Pow she'll be bouncing off the walls."
Tim had to smile at the mental image. "That would be more accurate."
DiNozzo hardly heard him. Now he was trapped in memories: the heat of her bodies, her flesh blazing hot against his damp skin; how just one taste of her had left him wanting more; her muffled screams shattering the relative quiet. . . . Oh, God help me.
Then McGee turned on the radio, changing stations until the strains of a 1990's ballad resonated through the car. Tony froze as he heard the opening line:
"It was a rainy night when he came into sight . . ."
Oh, no. Although, this does remind me of a movie . . .
McGee gave him a sideways look. Noticing it, Tony snapped, "What are you looking at, Probie?"
Why? she asked herself. Why did I do what I did?
Even as she thought it, she realized she didn't have an answer.
...
The rapping at her door snapped her awake—and sent her tumbling off the couch onto the floor as she reached for her weapon and overextended. Ziva didn't remember lying on the couch or falling asleep, but she must have. Anyway, she lurched to her feet, grabbing for her gun, and went to the door, hoping it wasn't Tony or Michael. She didn't want to see either of them right now.
Of course, she couldn't be that lucky. Sighing, she opened the door an inch. She hissed, "What are you doing here?"
Rivkin shouldered the door open further and stepped inside. "I wanted to see you, Ziva." He moved closer to her, rested one hand on her arm, and traced the other along her jawline. Her mind whirled; instead of Michael she was seeing Tony, replaying that night a month ago. When Rivkin brought her face centimeters away from his, she jerked free of his grip. Puzzled, he stepped back and released her. "Is something wrong?"
"I just want to be by myself right now," she said. Well, it's part of the truth. The rest was that, now, every time he touched her, she didn't see him but the man whose child she was now carrying. Eventually she'd have to tell Michael about the baby. Just not today.
Her Mossad boyfriend nodded. "Okay." Not wanting to be drop-kicked out the window where he'd most likely end up falling to his death, he turned and left. Just like that.
It wasn't until she heard his vehicle start up and roar out of sight that she allowed herself to relax.
The ringing of her cell phone broke the quiet and made her jump. Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she checked the caller I.D. DiNozzo. Ziva ignored it and trudged into her bedroom. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep.
And as she slept, she dreamed.
Raindrops pattered relentlessly against the windowpane but quickly faded to background noise; Ziva was much more interested in tormenting Tony. She leaned over him, nuzzling him, then blazed a trail down his abdomen. He groaned and jerked upward in response as her lips traced the soft skin of his throat. Somehow—she didn't really know how or when—he flipped her over. Now Tony was the one on top, teasing her, threatening to push her over the edge. It seemed to go on forever, both of them constantly changing positions. Ziva didn't mind; she was reveling in the taste, the smell, the feel of him.
Then he was inside her . . .
Ziva woke with a start, bolting upright, gasping. Her sheets were soaked with sweat. Heart thumping, she looked around wildly, half expecting Tony to be in the room with her. Relief crashed through her when she confirmed she was alone.
The dream pricked at her conscience. Yet it wasn't just a dream: it was a memory.
Desperation clawed at her heart. She had to leave. Ziva couldn't be at work now, what with her condition. There was another reason, one she was scared to admit: She didn't know how she could keep it a secret without anyone on Team Gibbs finding out—especially Tony. The note had probably clued him in, but knowing him, he might not make the connection. Then again, the senior field agent had the most dirty mind. Add to the fact that she hadn't slept with anyone since then . . . Yes, if she stayed her secret was in danger of being discovered. There was only one thing that came to mind.
Fumbling for her cell, Ziva hit one of the numbers on speed dial and listened to the other phone ringing. When the person picked up, she said, "Michael, do you know of any safe houses nearby?"
...
The months flew by like leaves in the wind. It was now November and Ziva's daughter had been born two months previously. She'd never told Michael who the father was, only that she'd been expecting, and let him assume Sarah was his. Ziva didn't like lying to him, but this was yet another secret she had to keep.
In the past few months, she'd severed all her ties with NCIS and gone underground, thinking it was best to let Gibbs, Ducky, Vance, Tony, Tim, and Abby to think she'd died or gone back to Israel. Ziva had retreated to a safe house Mossad had used in the past, one her teammates had no knowledge of, and only made transactions when she'd needed to in cash. The safe house was deep in the woods, practically in the middle of nowhere, and she was as content as she could be while missing her NCIS friends and taking care of her daughter.
Fate had other plans.
One cool, autumn afternoon, Ziva was on her way to what she now thought of as her home when she saw the familiar NCIS truck and the black Chargers. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the field agents: her old team.
Without really thinking about it, Ziva pulled over and, shooting a quick glance at Sarah in the backseat, hopped out of the car. The sound of the car door slamming shut alerted Team Gibbs to her presence and their heads swiveled as one in her direction.
Under their stares, Ziva had to fight the sudden urge to turn tail. Then McGee came walking towards her. "I'm sorry, miss, but you're going to have to leave. This is a crime scene."
She didn't move; just stood there and studied him with her head tilted to the side. "You don't remember me, McGee?"
Sudden recognition flared in his eyes. "Ziva? You're alive?"
She nodded and said with biting sarcasm, "Obviously."
"But . . . we thought you were dead," he stammered, obviously flustered.
Attracted by the attention, Tony and Gibbs were now coming over. The team leader said gravely, "Ziva, what are you doing here?"
"I was on my way home and saw you guys," she replied. The Israeli was deliberately avoiding Tony's gaze, which was trained on her like a dog on a rabbit. Gibbs, of course, immediately picked up on the tension between his senior field agent and Mossad officer and went back to the body.
DiNozzo gently lifted her face so she was looking him in the eyes. "Ziva," he said, "what happened? Why'd you leave?"
She hesitated, then murmured, "Follow me. There's something you should see." The Israeli started back to her red Mini Cooper, the movie-loving agent on her six.
"Ziva, what's going—?" Tony broke off as she opened the back door, exposing the two-month-old girl in the carrier. Sensing she was being watched, the child turned her head so she was looking at the adults. Her eyes were the same shade of green as DiNozzo's.
Watching him, Ziva saw the surprise flare in Tony's eyes and he made a strangled sound. He choked, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did," she said flatly. Her voice took on a pleading tone. "But Tony, please, please understand. I'm in love with another man, and what he couldn't give me was the one little thing that you can."
Tony's eyes took on a look of stunned disbelief and he raised a hand to his temple in an absentminded way. "God, Ziva. How do you—" He broke off abruptly as the ex-sniper came over. Gibbs asked, "Is there a problem here?"
Then the silver-haired agent saw the child in the backseat and his gaze flew to the Israeli and Italian. "I see," was all he said.
Ziva swallowed hard. "Gibbs, please forgive me. I had to. It was—"
"Don't you dare say it was for the best, Ziva," Gibbs snapped. "We thought you were dead, and you've been here all this time! And for what? So you could save your own skin? I never figured you for a coward."
"I'm not," she replied in a soft, hard voice. "And it wasn't just me I was saving." Her eyes flicked meaningfully to her daughter, then back at him. "You of all people should know that."
They all knew what she meant. Gibbs had lost his wife, Shannon, and his daughter, Kelly, and gone after their murderer. He'd taken out Mexican drug dealer Pedro Hernandez with a single sniper shot to the forehead through the windshield of his pickup truck. Ziva could see those memories in Gibbs' eye now.
Finally the team leader inclined his head. His eyes meeting hers, he said, "You're always welcome back at NCIS. I'd be glad to have you on my team again." Then, as if nothing had happened, he began heading back to crime scene and Ducky, Palmer, and Co.
Once he was gone, Ziva shut the car door and forced herself to meet Tony's eyes—again. Those green orbs were unreadable and she found it hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Anger? Disappointment? Maybe both? There was no way for her to tell, but the more she studied him the more she could feel her old desire rising. Desperately she clamped down on it; giving in to her feelings was what had put her in this situation in the first place. God, why did he have to be so irresistible? Again, she heard that song playing in her mind: One night of love was all we knew/All I want to do is make love to you/Come on, say you will, you want me too.
As if he knew what she was thinking, a corner of DiNozzo's mouth hitched up in what could have passed for a smile. It faded before Ziva could decide if she'd actually seen it. While she was pondering over that, his lips brushed against hers, so light that she almost hadn't felt it. He said quietly, "I'm here for you, Ziva, if you need me. So is the rest of the team." Before she could respond, he was walking away. The dark storm clouds that had been threatening overhead suddenly burst open, sending a steady drizzle down along with mist. It didn't take long for the NCIS team to finish processing and securing the scene and leave. Ziva noticed that Gibbs was driving by himself, leaving Tony to ride with McGee. She would have waited until they'd left, but the rain forced her into her car. Gunning the engine, she pulled away, intending to go to the safe house before moving back to her apartment.
...
Tony and Tim drove along the road in silence. The probie was the first one to speak. "What happened with Ziva, Tony?"
"Remember that note she left months ago?" DiNozzo glanced to his right so he could gauge McGee's reaction. Elf Lord nodded, a slightly disgusted look flashing across his face. "Thanks for reminding— Oh. So that's why she left."
"Yes."
"Abby's gonna be happy for the two of you when she realizes she was right."
Tony scoffed. "More like she's gonna be so hopped up on Caf-Pow she'll be bouncing off the walls."
Tim had to smile at the mental image. "That would be more accurate."
DiNozzo hardly heard him. Now he was trapped in memories: the heat of her bodies, her flesh blazing hot against his damp skin; how just one taste of her had left him wanting more; her muffled screams shattering the relative quiet. . . . Oh, God help me.
Then McGee turned on the radio, changing stations until the strains of a 1990's ballad resonated through the car. Tony froze as he heard the opening line:
"It was a rainy night when he came into sight . . ."
Oh, no. Although, this does remind me of a movie . . .
McGee gave him a sideways look. Noticing it, Tony snapped, "What are you looking at, Probie?"
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