"Commitment" - Tony/Ziva
disclaimer: So not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back unharmed.
summary & notes: Sometimes, the big decisions need a big trigger.
No spoilers, since this is set in a fictitious season ten, in which they've been together for a while. Otherwise -- tissues might be needed, but in the good way. Forgive me for being in an incredibly sappy mood. I'm trying to get over it.
word count: 2,735
comments & feedback: Very much appreciated.
Commitment
The pain was a weird constant that accompanied him. He wasn't sure for how long it went on. He felt himself drift in and out of consciousness several times, on varying occasions and different times of the day. There was no rhythm to it, and his brain was too fuzzed to keep track, but the one thing he always noticed, no matter how out of it he felt, was the dull throbbing that pulsed through his whole body.
His chest hurt as if somebody had run a car over it. His shoulder wasn't far behind.
At one point he was lucid enough to realize it was probably a good thing that he could feel all of his body, even though it was in excruciating detail. He just didn't care much for the way it made him want to curl up and cry like a baby.
*** *** ***
"Tony." His partner's voice was soft, almost hushed. It was still easy to hear the agitation underneath it.
Ziva was troubled. Not good. Possibly bordering on really bad news if she showed it so openly that he could hear it simply in the way she'd called his name.
"You need to come back to me," she said, and his throat tightened because he didn't like hearing her with such blatant distress in her voice. He wanted to tell her to cheer up, but he couldn't force his lips to move the way he wanted them to. He tried to open his eyes at least and look at her, because that was a form of communication that had always worked perfectly for them, ever since day one. But his body refused to perform even such a minor task, and it didn't take long until he was too exhausted to keep trying.
Ziva's hand moved on his. The first non-painful sensation since all of this had started. Gentle, careful. He was so close to slipping back into unconsciousness, and yet the soft strokes of her fingertips on his skin pulled him out of it every time he came near.
Then she sighed, and he felt strangely disappointed when her caresses slowed and eventually stopped.
"Take your time," she said. There was disappointment in her voice, too.
*** *** ***
He was halfway awake when she totally lost her cool with one of the nurses, and he had no idea what the poor woman had done. He couldn't remember if he had ever heard Ziva outright yell at someone before. He wasn't sure. For some reason he still felt like grinning. Fierce momma bear.
That's my girl, he thought. That's--
He slipped away just then, his mind suddenly tumbling all over the place. He'd never know -- because Ziva would never tell him -- he flatlined that day.
*** *** ***
His first word after God knows how long wasn't his partner's name or a gentle 'Hey' like in the movies, but a nasty curse. He'd tried to take a deep breath when he woke and ended up coughing instead, and while searing pain lashed through his chest and made his eyes water, he heard the legs of a chair scrape harshly across the floor. Then Ziva was there, muttering his name and touching him and holding his head so he could breathe easier. Sadly, easier didn't equal less painful, and he groaned only to regret the sound instantly.
"Don't move," she told him, and if it wouldn't have hurt like hell he would have laughed at the quietly spoken command.
"I'm trying," he pressed out. His own voice sounded unfamiliar. Raspy, strained. Like he hadn't used it in a while.
Ziva's hand touched his cheek and that distracted him instantly, like it always did. He felt the shudders that ran through her and thought, This is weird. Ziva didn't do this. She wasn't the kind to shake.
It took him a while to crack his eyes open and even longer to focus on her face. The room was way too bright, and the glare of an early morning sun made his head throb, but he still had to make sure she was all right.
She didn't look all right. She was pale and haggard, and the dark shadows under her eyes weren't too flattering, even when it came to her beautiful face. He'd missed looking at her. He hadn't done that in far too long.
"Oh, God. Tony."
And that was when she really shocked him because her eyes, wide and suspiciously shiny even before, started filling up with tears, just like that. He had no idea why. He just felt the strongest urge to apologize because whatever he had done, he hadn't meant to, he was pretty sure about that. Not if it made her cry.
"Wha--" he began, but she shook her head and slid her hand down to press her fingertips to his mouth. She always did that to shut him up, and yeah, it was pretty pathetic, but it always, always worked. He was never sure if it was because he loved her or because he loved her touching him.
"You were in a car accident," she explained now. Her voice sounded strained, and there was the same tremble to it he had felt in her touch. "A... truck ran you off the road." She swallowed hard and slipped her hand from his lips, but then she reconsidered and touched his mouth once more, very softly and hesitantly. Her eyes were still wide and shocked, and she stared at him as if she was sure he'd disappear if she looked away for even a split second. "It took them almost an hour to get you out of the car. They had to cut you out. Take your car apart."
He frowned, even though that made the headache worse. He didn't remember any of that. Which was a pity because there was a certain irony in the fact that all the bad guys on the job never got him but the stupidity of a car accident had. "How--"
She shushed him, pressing her fingers down once more. "That was four days ago."
No wonder you look like crap. He didn't say it out loud, of course. Ziva may not have been like other women most of the time, but in some ways she was scarily female after all.
"You have several broken ribs, among other things," she began to list quietly. "Your left clavicle is broken, too. And it will be quite some time before you can use your left arm again."
He blinked and stared at her while he tried to make sense of her words. Granted, his brain was still pretty fuzzy at the moment, but if she had indeed just said what he thought she'd said... well, it explained why she looked like she'd been chewed up and spit out again. She must have been worried out of her mind.
He pursed his lips against her fingertips, kissing them lightly. "Are you okay?"
Ziva laughed shakily and slid her hand down to his chest to rest it there. God, he just wanted to hug her so she'd stop looking at him like that. He didn't even care that it would hurt like hell if he tried.
"I was... worried," she replied carefully, but she was worn thin after four days and so her control didn't last all that long. She turned her head away, and he felt another shudder run through her. "They didn't let me see you at first."
He blinked, not sure if he'd heard that one right. Tears rolled down her cheek openly now, and Tony watched her while his heart clenched painfully. He really wasn't used to seeing her like this -- so vulnerable and all split open. He knew she hated it.
He wanted to raise his hand and touch her cheek, but grimaced and gave up the moment he tried to move. Apparently, his right arm wasn't all that good for use, either. Ziva turned her head back and met his eyes, then she gave him a weak smile. She wiped at her face and tried to look as if she were all composed and back under control now, but it wasn't hard for him to see through the act.
"I almost beat up one of the doctors. I think that helped."
Tony finally managed to grin at her, and that helped and relaxed her a little. She leaned over him, careful not to put any of her own weight on him, and pressed her lips to his. He felt her shudder, and he wanted to assure her he was okay, wanted to hug her, wanted to kiss her back and drag her down to the bed with him. But none of that was going to happen because his body protested at the mere thought of it, and so he shut his eyes while she put her forehead against his and just stayed close to him for a bit.
"They didn't want to tell me anything about your condition," she murmured against his cheek.
"That must have sucked."
She laughed, and her voice was as shaky as she felt. "That is a very mild euphemism."
He turned his head a little so he could feel more of her warmth. Her breath flowed over his cheek and her lashes tickled his skin. Despite the dull throbbing in his chest Tony suddenly felt content.
Then she breathed out slowly, and while she leaned a little more into him, he felt the slightest tension rippling through her. Like she was suddenly nervous. "Tony," she said, and he blinked his eyes open blearily. "I know we agreed we wouldn't do the marriage thing..."
She fell quiet again, and he felt her bite her lip when another tear slipped from her cheek to his. He kissed her cheek, even though the small movement made fire sear through his chest. "You want to re-negotiate?"
Another laugh, as trepid as the last one. Then she leaned back and put her hand to his cheek again. "I think I don't want either of us to die alone."
His heart hurt so badly for a moment that he had trouble catching his breath. Ziva raised her chin and met his eyes as if she -- literally -- felt his pain right now, but she didn't take it back and didn't brush it off as a mere joke. God, he loved that woman so much.
"Do you know if they recovered my wallet?"
She blinked, confused by what seemed like a rapid switch in topic. "I think so," she replied eventually. "Why?"
"Ask the nurse to get it."
It didn't ease her confusion, but Ziva did what he said anyway.
*** *** ***
Staying awake until the nurse got back turned into hard work, and he almost lost the fight to exhaustion and pain killers. Ziva had been quiet the whole time, just touched him gently and stroked his skin every now and then as if she wanted to reassure herself more than him that he was all right and finally back on the mend now.
The nurse, a cute Irish-looking girl, seemed a little too nervous when she handed Ziva his wallet and rushed out again as soon as possible. It left Tony wondering idly just how threatening Ziva had been with the poor doctors and nurses around here, but he couldn't really blame her. He'd have probably done the same if she'd been the one in the bed. Actually, no. He wouldn't have stopped at "almost" hurting them if they'd tried to keep him from seeing her.
"Second compartment," he said, and Ziva jumped a little at the sound of his voice.
She opened the wallet for him, and her expression changed from curious to shocked and then to a few other emotions he couldn't read all that well. It took her a while until she could reach inside and take the ring out.
It was a simple band, no stone, just plain white gold and Hebrew letters etched into it that said 'You own my heart'. At the time he'd bought it, it had been the least tacky thing he could think of -- and also the one closest to the truth -- but now, while he watched her read the inscription, he suddenly had his doubts. They didn't do this kind of thing, after all.
Ziva just stared at the ring for seconds that felt like hours, and yeah, it didn't take long until he got nervous. He'd rolled this around in his head so often, had gone through every possible scenario, and yet, he still wasn't sure how she'd react. He'd never been. That was why he'd just carried it around all the time. Just in case he needed it one day after all.
"How long have you had this?" she suddenly asked, and for a moment he felt like squirming and evading and giving her a half-truth. But then she looked at him, all shaken and emotional, and he gave her a baby shrug that was still enough to send red-hot pain through his shoulder.
"About six months."
She looked at the ring again, and more emotion rippled all over her face. She probably thought she had it under control, but he could see it so clearly, could see the gears turning in her head, putting things together, forging connections and coming up with a picture she hadn't seen before.
"That was when we talked about it."
Her voice was suddenly very quiet, and he wasn't sure what the weird note meant that he heard in her words, so he went back to his old ways of evasion and hid the severity of the moment behind another painful shrug.
"I guess I kinda liked the idea more than I thought I would." He'd really meant to ask her that night. He'd wanted to. But then the topic had come up and they'd touched it and soon veered away from it again, and somehow they'd ended up agreeing about something that wasn't how they'd really felt. And that had been it, until now.
She blinked a few times, rapidly, but it didn't help, and it didn't stop her eyes from tearing up once more. Tony breathed out slowly, and despite the screeching pain he raised his right arm, just enough to drop his hand to her thigh. "You gonna--"
His voice trailed off, but he didn't have to actually voice the question. Ziva got him anyway, and she nodded abruptly and slipped the ring onto her finger. Atta girl. He smiled at her, proud and suddenly ridiculously happy. At least he had planned it as a smile, but his expression slipped a little when he raised his right hand high enough to extend a crooked pinkie for her to grab.
It was more than worth the effort, though, because the gesture brought him both a fresh spurt of tears from Ziva and a tiny laugh that was almost on its way to joyful. She wiped at her face with one hand while she hooked her pinkie into his to seal the deal, and even though he knew she would probably never let him live it down that he made her pinkie swear on their marriage, he suddenly knew this was just how it was supposed to be: him, with her. Together.
"Done," he said and let his hand fall into her lap. He was too tired now to keep his eyes open any longer, but he still gave her a smile, and he felt hers when she leaned over him to kiss him once more. He knew they'd have to make it legally binding sooner or later, for the sake of all the lawyers and doctors of the world, but right now, right here, they had taken the biggest step of many.
"I love you," she whispered, just when he was about to fall asleep again, and he felt her hand cradle his in her lap. She didn't say that often, but when she did, she really meant it. He wanted to tell her he loved her more, but he couldn't manage much more than a satisfied hum. Anything else would have required a lot more energy than he had left right now.
He'd tell her tomorrow. And maybe he could get the pretty little nurse to buy some flowers, so he could surprise his wife.
*** *** ***
summary & notes: Sometimes, the big decisions need a big trigger.
No spoilers, since this is set in a fictitious season ten, in which they've been together for a while. Otherwise -- tissues might be needed, but in the good way. Forgive me for being in an incredibly sappy mood. I'm trying to get over it.
word count: 2,735
comments & feedback: Very much appreciated.
Commitment
The pain was a weird constant that accompanied him. He wasn't sure for how long it went on. He felt himself drift in and out of consciousness several times, on varying occasions and different times of the day. There was no rhythm to it, and his brain was too fuzzed to keep track, but the one thing he always noticed, no matter how out of it he felt, was the dull throbbing that pulsed through his whole body.
His chest hurt as if somebody had run a car over it. His shoulder wasn't far behind.
At one point he was lucid enough to realize it was probably a good thing that he could feel all of his body, even though it was in excruciating detail. He just didn't care much for the way it made him want to curl up and cry like a baby.
*** *** ***
"Tony." His partner's voice was soft, almost hushed. It was still easy to hear the agitation underneath it.
Ziva was troubled. Not good. Possibly bordering on really bad news if she showed it so openly that he could hear it simply in the way she'd called his name.
"You need to come back to me," she said, and his throat tightened because he didn't like hearing her with such blatant distress in her voice. He wanted to tell her to cheer up, but he couldn't force his lips to move the way he wanted them to. He tried to open his eyes at least and look at her, because that was a form of communication that had always worked perfectly for them, ever since day one. But his body refused to perform even such a minor task, and it didn't take long until he was too exhausted to keep trying.
Ziva's hand moved on his. The first non-painful sensation since all of this had started. Gentle, careful. He was so close to slipping back into unconsciousness, and yet the soft strokes of her fingertips on his skin pulled him out of it every time he came near.
Then she sighed, and he felt strangely disappointed when her caresses slowed and eventually stopped.
"Take your time," she said. There was disappointment in her voice, too.
*** *** ***
He was halfway awake when she totally lost her cool with one of the nurses, and he had no idea what the poor woman had done. He couldn't remember if he had ever heard Ziva outright yell at someone before. He wasn't sure. For some reason he still felt like grinning. Fierce momma bear.
That's my girl, he thought. That's--
He slipped away just then, his mind suddenly tumbling all over the place. He'd never know -- because Ziva would never tell him -- he flatlined that day.
*** *** ***
His first word after God knows how long wasn't his partner's name or a gentle 'Hey' like in the movies, but a nasty curse. He'd tried to take a deep breath when he woke and ended up coughing instead, and while searing pain lashed through his chest and made his eyes water, he heard the legs of a chair scrape harshly across the floor. Then Ziva was there, muttering his name and touching him and holding his head so he could breathe easier. Sadly, easier didn't equal less painful, and he groaned only to regret the sound instantly.
"Don't move," she told him, and if it wouldn't have hurt like hell he would have laughed at the quietly spoken command.
"I'm trying," he pressed out. His own voice sounded unfamiliar. Raspy, strained. Like he hadn't used it in a while.
Ziva's hand touched his cheek and that distracted him instantly, like it always did. He felt the shudders that ran through her and thought, This is weird. Ziva didn't do this. She wasn't the kind to shake.
It took him a while to crack his eyes open and even longer to focus on her face. The room was way too bright, and the glare of an early morning sun made his head throb, but he still had to make sure she was all right.
She didn't look all right. She was pale and haggard, and the dark shadows under her eyes weren't too flattering, even when it came to her beautiful face. He'd missed looking at her. He hadn't done that in far too long.
"Oh, God. Tony."
And that was when she really shocked him because her eyes, wide and suspiciously shiny even before, started filling up with tears, just like that. He had no idea why. He just felt the strongest urge to apologize because whatever he had done, he hadn't meant to, he was pretty sure about that. Not if it made her cry.
"Wha--" he began, but she shook her head and slid her hand down to press her fingertips to his mouth. She always did that to shut him up, and yeah, it was pretty pathetic, but it always, always worked. He was never sure if it was because he loved her or because he loved her touching him.
"You were in a car accident," she explained now. Her voice sounded strained, and there was the same tremble to it he had felt in her touch. "A... truck ran you off the road." She swallowed hard and slipped her hand from his lips, but then she reconsidered and touched his mouth once more, very softly and hesitantly. Her eyes were still wide and shocked, and she stared at him as if she was sure he'd disappear if she looked away for even a split second. "It took them almost an hour to get you out of the car. They had to cut you out. Take your car apart."
He frowned, even though that made the headache worse. He didn't remember any of that. Which was a pity because there was a certain irony in the fact that all the bad guys on the job never got him but the stupidity of a car accident had. "How--"
She shushed him, pressing her fingers down once more. "That was four days ago."
No wonder you look like crap. He didn't say it out loud, of course. Ziva may not have been like other women most of the time, but in some ways she was scarily female after all.
"You have several broken ribs, among other things," she began to list quietly. "Your left clavicle is broken, too. And it will be quite some time before you can use your left arm again."
He blinked and stared at her while he tried to make sense of her words. Granted, his brain was still pretty fuzzy at the moment, but if she had indeed just said what he thought she'd said... well, it explained why she looked like she'd been chewed up and spit out again. She must have been worried out of her mind.
He pursed his lips against her fingertips, kissing them lightly. "Are you okay?"
Ziva laughed shakily and slid her hand down to his chest to rest it there. God, he just wanted to hug her so she'd stop looking at him like that. He didn't even care that it would hurt like hell if he tried.
"I was... worried," she replied carefully, but she was worn thin after four days and so her control didn't last all that long. She turned her head away, and he felt another shudder run through her. "They didn't let me see you at first."
He blinked, not sure if he'd heard that one right. Tears rolled down her cheek openly now, and Tony watched her while his heart clenched painfully. He really wasn't used to seeing her like this -- so vulnerable and all split open. He knew she hated it.
He wanted to raise his hand and touch her cheek, but grimaced and gave up the moment he tried to move. Apparently, his right arm wasn't all that good for use, either. Ziva turned her head back and met his eyes, then she gave him a weak smile. She wiped at her face and tried to look as if she were all composed and back under control now, but it wasn't hard for him to see through the act.
"I almost beat up one of the doctors. I think that helped."
Tony finally managed to grin at her, and that helped and relaxed her a little. She leaned over him, careful not to put any of her own weight on him, and pressed her lips to his. He felt her shudder, and he wanted to assure her he was okay, wanted to hug her, wanted to kiss her back and drag her down to the bed with him. But none of that was going to happen because his body protested at the mere thought of it, and so he shut his eyes while she put her forehead against his and just stayed close to him for a bit.
"They didn't want to tell me anything about your condition," she murmured against his cheek.
"That must have sucked."
She laughed, and her voice was as shaky as she felt. "That is a very mild euphemism."
He turned his head a little so he could feel more of her warmth. Her breath flowed over his cheek and her lashes tickled his skin. Despite the dull throbbing in his chest Tony suddenly felt content.
Then she breathed out slowly, and while she leaned a little more into him, he felt the slightest tension rippling through her. Like she was suddenly nervous. "Tony," she said, and he blinked his eyes open blearily. "I know we agreed we wouldn't do the marriage thing..."
She fell quiet again, and he felt her bite her lip when another tear slipped from her cheek to his. He kissed her cheek, even though the small movement made fire sear through his chest. "You want to re-negotiate?"
Another laugh, as trepid as the last one. Then she leaned back and put her hand to his cheek again. "I think I don't want either of us to die alone."
His heart hurt so badly for a moment that he had trouble catching his breath. Ziva raised her chin and met his eyes as if she -- literally -- felt his pain right now, but she didn't take it back and didn't brush it off as a mere joke. God, he loved that woman so much.
"Do you know if they recovered my wallet?"
She blinked, confused by what seemed like a rapid switch in topic. "I think so," she replied eventually. "Why?"
"Ask the nurse to get it."
It didn't ease her confusion, but Ziva did what he said anyway.
*** *** ***
Staying awake until the nurse got back turned into hard work, and he almost lost the fight to exhaustion and pain killers. Ziva had been quiet the whole time, just touched him gently and stroked his skin every now and then as if she wanted to reassure herself more than him that he was all right and finally back on the mend now.
The nurse, a cute Irish-looking girl, seemed a little too nervous when she handed Ziva his wallet and rushed out again as soon as possible. It left Tony wondering idly just how threatening Ziva had been with the poor doctors and nurses around here, but he couldn't really blame her. He'd have probably done the same if she'd been the one in the bed. Actually, no. He wouldn't have stopped at "almost" hurting them if they'd tried to keep him from seeing her.
"Second compartment," he said, and Ziva jumped a little at the sound of his voice.
She opened the wallet for him, and her expression changed from curious to shocked and then to a few other emotions he couldn't read all that well. It took her a while until she could reach inside and take the ring out.
It was a simple band, no stone, just plain white gold and Hebrew letters etched into it that said 'You own my heart'. At the time he'd bought it, it had been the least tacky thing he could think of -- and also the one closest to the truth -- but now, while he watched her read the inscription, he suddenly had his doubts. They didn't do this kind of thing, after all.
Ziva just stared at the ring for seconds that felt like hours, and yeah, it didn't take long until he got nervous. He'd rolled this around in his head so often, had gone through every possible scenario, and yet, he still wasn't sure how she'd react. He'd never been. That was why he'd just carried it around all the time. Just in case he needed it one day after all.
"How long have you had this?" she suddenly asked, and for a moment he felt like squirming and evading and giving her a half-truth. But then she looked at him, all shaken and emotional, and he gave her a baby shrug that was still enough to send red-hot pain through his shoulder.
"About six months."
She looked at the ring again, and more emotion rippled all over her face. She probably thought she had it under control, but he could see it so clearly, could see the gears turning in her head, putting things together, forging connections and coming up with a picture she hadn't seen before.
"That was when we talked about it."
Her voice was suddenly very quiet, and he wasn't sure what the weird note meant that he heard in her words, so he went back to his old ways of evasion and hid the severity of the moment behind another painful shrug.
"I guess I kinda liked the idea more than I thought I would." He'd really meant to ask her that night. He'd wanted to. But then the topic had come up and they'd touched it and soon veered away from it again, and somehow they'd ended up agreeing about something that wasn't how they'd really felt. And that had been it, until now.
She blinked a few times, rapidly, but it didn't help, and it didn't stop her eyes from tearing up once more. Tony breathed out slowly, and despite the screeching pain he raised his right arm, just enough to drop his hand to her thigh. "You gonna--"
His voice trailed off, but he didn't have to actually voice the question. Ziva got him anyway, and she nodded abruptly and slipped the ring onto her finger. Atta girl. He smiled at her, proud and suddenly ridiculously happy. At least he had planned it as a smile, but his expression slipped a little when he raised his right hand high enough to extend a crooked pinkie for her to grab.
It was more than worth the effort, though, because the gesture brought him both a fresh spurt of tears from Ziva and a tiny laugh that was almost on its way to joyful. She wiped at her face with one hand while she hooked her pinkie into his to seal the deal, and even though he knew she would probably never let him live it down that he made her pinkie swear on their marriage, he suddenly knew this was just how it was supposed to be: him, with her. Together.
"Done," he said and let his hand fall into her lap. He was too tired now to keep his eyes open any longer, but he still gave her a smile, and he felt hers when she leaned over him to kiss him once more. He knew they'd have to make it legally binding sooner or later, for the sake of all the lawyers and doctors of the world, but right now, right here, they had taken the biggest step of many.
"I love you," she whispered, just when he was about to fall asleep again, and he felt her hand cradle his in her lap. She didn't say that often, but when she did, she really meant it. He wanted to tell her he loved her more, but he couldn't manage much more than a satisfied hum. Anything else would have required a lot more energy than he had left right now.
He'd tell her tomorrow. And maybe he could get the pretty little nurse to buy some flowers, so he could surprise his wife.
*** *** ***