[NCIS] Crying Like A Girl :: PG :: Gen :: 1/1
Title: Crying Like A Girl
Author: chaletian
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Tag to 6x09
Summary: The aftermath of episode 6x09 - Tony and Ziva. (Written for to cheer up pim2005 until I remembered she wasn't up to date... so it's still for her but she can't read it. Well, she can. But it might not make sense.)
In a stall in the washroom, Ziva tried not to cry. Crying was not something NCIS agents did. It definitely wasn't something you did in Mossad. And certainly not over a woman who had betrayed her country, whatever her reasons for doing it. No matter how much you understood them.
The door opened. She heard footsteps, and knew that Tony had followed her. The door of the stall creaked as someone leant against it.
“You okay?”
“I am fine.”
“That why you're crying in the bathroom? Like a girl.”
“I am a girl, Tony.”
“Like a probie. Whatever. You okay?”
“I said I was fine.”
“Yeah, but that was a lie.”
“It wasn't--”
“Trained investigator, Ziva. I can smell a lie a mile off.”
“I think we established a long time ago that that is not true.”
“Those results were biased. You okay?”
“Yes, Tony. I am crying in a toilet because I am okay.”
“This case, huh? Lee?”
The toilet flushed, and Ziva stepped out of the cubicle, eyes pink but dry.
“In the end, she was very brave.”
“Huh," Tony said, non-committedly. Ziva shrugged.
“I am okay. Let's--”
Tony wasn't listening, his thoughts seeking some kind of expression. “It’s just, sometimes I forget that you’re a woman, you know? OK, not that you’re a woman. That’s obvious.” He gestured vaguely up and down. “But that you’re womanly. Wait, no, I know, I know, gender stereotypes. I guess I mean that you’re human, and not a super-ninja spy.” He was rambling now. He knew it, and Ziva knew it. She smiled a little.
“Though I am a super-ninja agent,” she said. Tony snapped his fingers.
“There! That thing! You do that, and we all chuckle and Probie looks kinda scared, and we don’t think about you being all womanly-”
“Humanly.”
“-with the feelings.” He stared at her, accusing. “I see right through you, Ziva David. Right through to that squishy, squashy, marshmallowy, pillowy-“
“And we are finished here.” Ziva grinned a short, amused grin and stepped past Tony, then paused as she felt his hand fall on her shoulder from behind. Paused, but didn’t tense, not for once, not this time. This was a moment for openness. When Tony spoke again his tone had changed.
“I know you - and Gibbs, and a lot of people in this building - think that this job has to make you hard. I know you think that - this - makes you less. Less effective. Less useful. Less… whatever. It doesn’t have to. The job doesn’t have to, I mean. We’re still just people, trying to figure out our lives. You, me, Lee, Gibbs, McGee - all of us.”
“She was just trying to protect her family.” Ziva’s voice was low and, acting on instinct, not even thinking that such an action would any other day end with him writhing in agony, Tony stepped forward, pulling her close.
She didn’t hesitate, didn’t resist, just wept into his chest, and Tony held her while she cried.
They didn’t speak of it, that afternoon in the washroom, but a moment of understanding, once shared, can’t be unshared, and neither would forget it.
Author: chaletian
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Tag to 6x09
Summary: The aftermath of episode 6x09 - Tony and Ziva. (Written for to cheer up pim2005 until I remembered she wasn't up to date... so it's still for her but she can't read it. Well, she can. But it might not make sense.)
In a stall in the washroom, Ziva tried not to cry. Crying was not something NCIS agents did. It definitely wasn't something you did in Mossad. And certainly not over a woman who had betrayed her country, whatever her reasons for doing it. No matter how much you understood them.
The door opened. She heard footsteps, and knew that Tony had followed her. The door of the stall creaked as someone leant against it.
“You okay?”
“I am fine.”
“That why you're crying in the bathroom? Like a girl.”
“I am a girl, Tony.”
“Like a probie. Whatever. You okay?”
“I said I was fine.”
“Yeah, but that was a lie.”
“It wasn't--”
“Trained investigator, Ziva. I can smell a lie a mile off.”
“I think we established a long time ago that that is not true.”
“Those results were biased. You okay?”
“Yes, Tony. I am crying in a toilet because I am okay.”
“This case, huh? Lee?”
The toilet flushed, and Ziva stepped out of the cubicle, eyes pink but dry.
“In the end, she was very brave.”
“Huh," Tony said, non-committedly. Ziva shrugged.
“I am okay. Let's--”
Tony wasn't listening, his thoughts seeking some kind of expression. “It’s just, sometimes I forget that you’re a woman, you know? OK, not that you’re a woman. That’s obvious.” He gestured vaguely up and down. “But that you’re womanly. Wait, no, I know, I know, gender stereotypes. I guess I mean that you’re human, and not a super-ninja spy.” He was rambling now. He knew it, and Ziva knew it. She smiled a little.
“Though I am a super-ninja agent,” she said. Tony snapped his fingers.
“There! That thing! You do that, and we all chuckle and Probie looks kinda scared, and we don’t think about you being all womanly-”
“Humanly.”
“-with the feelings.” He stared at her, accusing. “I see right through you, Ziva David. Right through to that squishy, squashy, marshmallowy, pillowy-“
“And we are finished here.” Ziva grinned a short, amused grin and stepped past Tony, then paused as she felt his hand fall on her shoulder from behind. Paused, but didn’t tense, not for once, not this time. This was a moment for openness. When Tony spoke again his tone had changed.
“I know you - and Gibbs, and a lot of people in this building - think that this job has to make you hard. I know you think that - this - makes you less. Less effective. Less useful. Less… whatever. It doesn’t have to. The job doesn’t have to, I mean. We’re still just people, trying to figure out our lives. You, me, Lee, Gibbs, McGee - all of us.”
“She was just trying to protect her family.” Ziva’s voice was low and, acting on instinct, not even thinking that such an action would any other day end with him writhing in agony, Tony stepped forward, pulling her close.
She didn’t hesitate, didn’t resist, just wept into his chest, and Tony held her while she cried.
They didn’t speak of it, that afternoon in the washroom, but a moment of understanding, once shared, can’t be unshared, and neither would forget it.