Fic: Shattered (Tony-centric) 7/?
Title: Shattered
Author: justhowthisgoes
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Angst
Pairing: Tiva
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Tony can't sleep. He's worried about Ziva. Post-Aliyah angsty ficlets. Was a one-shot, but now extended to a multi-chapter by popular request.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Truth, Lies, Insanity
“Ziva’s not replaceable.”
Not replaceable. Irreplaceable? Incapable of being replaced?
It didn’t really matter how he said it, the end result was the same.
And where had that Spinal Tap mention come from?
Sure it was a hilarious movie, but he was pretty sure that the reference was wasted on the Saleem. And he didn’t even know whether McGee was conscious.
Oh well, half of what he did was to entertain himself anyway.
“The one you lost. Then why aren’t you looking for her?”
Why?
Why wasn’t he looking for Ziva?
He should. He would if he could.
If he knew where to look.
If he had any hopes of finding her.
If he could discover the way and means to go down to Hades and bring her back, like Orpheus and Eurydice.
Then nothing would stop him.
Although, he was pretty sure that particular myth had ended badly. Most of them did, right?
“If I could drag her back, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
Or what would be considered the equivalent, in one without a heart.
And his heart was inexorably, irrevocably, inevitably gone.
With her. Wherever she was. Where?
Inquiring minds want to know: where do broken hearts go?
Hmm. Wasn’t that a song?
No. Dammit. He had to focus. The absolute last thing he needed right now was to start belting out Whitney Houston.
The Saleem was speaking again.
About the effects of whatever cocktail of truth ferreting ingredients that had been injected in his vein.
An impulse to talk without censor. Huh.
He had an impulse to ask how that was any different from the usual.
And yet, he could tell that it was.
There was barely a gap between his thoughts and his words as they came pouring out of his mouth.
Like turning on a tap, they flowed unchecked.
Almost.
The urge to simply blurt out the whole plan was nearly overwhelming, but he could handle it by blathering on about other, less important facts.
Insane.
Insanity. Madness. Lunacy.
“I’m insane?”
He laughed.
Maybe he was insane.
Maybe he had to be to have come here.
Maybe he always had been.
They say love is blind? Love is insane.
He tried to resist.
“Who are you leaving out?”
He couldn’t lie, as hard as he tried.
He had to tell.
But he didn’t have to be such a smart aleck.
Or maybe he did.
It was his natural reaction after all, just enhanced.
New and improved.
He could practically hear the imaginary infomercials running through his head.
‘Saleem’s Super-Duper Truth Serum. Sure to give anyone the gift of gab. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Act now and we’ll throw in a free set of Ginsu knives.’
Oops. Wandering again.
Now the Saleem was angry. He hurled his canteen against the wall.
Tony watched dryly as the red liquid snaked its way down to the floor.
“You had to have your Caf-Pow, didn’t you? Hey, it’s just a little chemical addiction, don’t worry.”
He taunted him. Taunted his captor.
Did he have a death wish?
…
No.
Not yet anyway. He had a task to accomplish.
The Saleem left, slamming out of the room.
McGee was awake.
He was all right.
Not time to act yet.
Then came shouting in Arabic outside the door.
A small, hooded figure was pushed into the room and onto the chair in front of him.
He was listening, but not quite hearing the Saleem’s little spiel.
There was something familiar.
Something he knew that he knew.
Something that was stirring up memories that he had fought to tamp down.
Who could…
And then, all was revealed.
Thump, thump.
The Saleem’s voice faded away into a dull roar and then… nothing.
Was anything real?
...
Chapter 8
Author: justhowthisgoes
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Angst
Pairing: Tiva
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Tony can't sleep. He's worried about Ziva. Post-Aliyah angsty ficlets. Was a one-shot, but now extended to a multi-chapter by popular request.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Truth, Lies, Insanity
“Ziva’s not replaceable.”
Not replaceable. Irreplaceable? Incapable of being replaced?
It didn’t really matter how he said it, the end result was the same.
And where had that Spinal Tap mention come from?
Sure it was a hilarious movie, but he was pretty sure that the reference was wasted on the Saleem. And he didn’t even know whether McGee was conscious.
Oh well, half of what he did was to entertain himself anyway.
“The one you lost. Then why aren’t you looking for her?”
Why?
Why wasn’t he looking for Ziva?
He should. He would if he could.
If he knew where to look.
If he had any hopes of finding her.
If he could discover the way and means to go down to Hades and bring her back, like Orpheus and Eurydice.
Then nothing would stop him.
Although, he was pretty sure that particular myth had ended badly. Most of them did, right?
“If I could drag her back, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
Or what would be considered the equivalent, in one without a heart.
And his heart was inexorably, irrevocably, inevitably gone.
With her. Wherever she was. Where?
Inquiring minds want to know: where do broken hearts go?
Hmm. Wasn’t that a song?
No. Dammit. He had to focus. The absolute last thing he needed right now was to start belting out Whitney Houston.
The Saleem was speaking again.
About the effects of whatever cocktail of truth ferreting ingredients that had been injected in his vein.
An impulse to talk without censor. Huh.
He had an impulse to ask how that was any different from the usual.
And yet, he could tell that it was.
There was barely a gap between his thoughts and his words as they came pouring out of his mouth.
Like turning on a tap, they flowed unchecked.
Almost.
The urge to simply blurt out the whole plan was nearly overwhelming, but he could handle it by blathering on about other, less important facts.
Insane.
Insanity. Madness. Lunacy.
“I’m insane?”
He laughed.
Maybe he was insane.
Maybe he had to be to have come here.
Maybe he always had been.
They say love is blind? Love is insane.
He tried to resist.
“Who are you leaving out?”
He couldn’t lie, as hard as he tried.
He had to tell.
But he didn’t have to be such a smart aleck.
Or maybe he did.
It was his natural reaction after all, just enhanced.
New and improved.
He could practically hear the imaginary infomercials running through his head.
‘Saleem’s Super-Duper Truth Serum. Sure to give anyone the gift of gab. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Act now and we’ll throw in a free set of Ginsu knives.’
Oops. Wandering again.
Now the Saleem was angry. He hurled his canteen against the wall.
Tony watched dryly as the red liquid snaked its way down to the floor.
“You had to have your Caf-Pow, didn’t you? Hey, it’s just a little chemical addiction, don’t worry.”
He taunted him. Taunted his captor.
Did he have a death wish?
…
No.
Not yet anyway. He had a task to accomplish.
The Saleem left, slamming out of the room.
McGee was awake.
He was all right.
Not time to act yet.
Then came shouting in Arabic outside the door.
A small, hooded figure was pushed into the room and onto the chair in front of him.
He was listening, but not quite hearing the Saleem’s little spiel.
There was something familiar.
Something he knew that he knew.
Something that was stirring up memories that he had fought to tamp down.
Who could…
And then, all was revealed.
Thump, thump.
The Saleem’s voice faded away into a dull roar and then… nothing.
Was anything real?
...
Chapter 8