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It has never been this exhausting to sit at her desk and stare at her computer screen before, not even in the weeks before she had been cleared for field work. She tries, but no matter how hard, she just can't seem to get anything accomplished. Her thoughts scatter and take a leave the second she so much as glances at Tony's empty seat.
The point of the knife she just barely dodged keeps coming back into her thoughts, too. It's a stubborn thing, really, hard to brush aside, and a few times she catches herself thinking that she could have died today. Because in the fraction of the second that counts she has been distracted by Tony. Smiling at her, of all things. And she thinks that yes, maybe he is indeed worth dying for, but certainly not out of sheer stupidity.
Her fingers tap the keyboard hard and produce so much nonsense that she eventually deletes the whole paragraph. Her jaw clenches, and she grinds her teeth while she struggles for control. Typing up a report is simply not supposed to be this difficult. She knows what to write, has done it dozens of times before, and her descriptions have always been impeccable. But somehow the clear, flawless speech never seems to sound right now whenever she reaches the point where her partner gets involved. And therein lies the real problem.
Paris has messed her up. Tony has messed her up.
This is certainly not the first time she has ever slept with a partner. She even had feelings involved before, some of them quite strong. But none of them have ever managed to affect her and her thinking, her simple ability to function, as much as Tony has.
Her head throbs with the beginnings of a headache, and she rubs her tired eyes. The knife is back instantly, almost grazing her shoulder, and she flinches hard. Stupid, so stupid. One instant of following him at the wrong time, and the assassin gets to the woman she is supposed to protect. Another silly moment of having butterflies in her stomach, like the schoolgirl she has never been, and she forgets all about watching out for junkies with knifes.
It's not even like he's taking advantage of their new status... whatever that status may be, and apparently they're both not really clear on that yet. No, he's actually acting like the perfect gentleman... as much as that can be said about Tony. And so she can't help thinking that maybe some of this confusion is just her own fault for actually wanting him to take advantage, every now and then.
Her shoulder hurts from being so tense, and she wonders if almost-wounds can actually leave phantom pain.
"Enough!"
She hits her desk angrily with her flat hand, and that sends a sharp, painful tingle all the way up into her shoulder, but even that doesn't help to focus her because just then Gibbs and Tony come back from MTAC. Tony watches her from across the room, head tilted to the side and brows drawing together, and she shakes her head to let him know that of course nothing is wrong. Except that it is and that he knows.
She frowns and breathes in deeply, staring at her screen again. Then she closes her eyes, takes a few more long, even breaths. It helps eventually, and when she resumes typing, her words flow more smoothly. It still feels like the hardest piece of work she has ever done in her life.
"Ziva. Conference room." Gibbs' voice, unexpectedly close, makes her jump and kills her budding shreds of concentration rather effectively.
She swallows hard and avoids meeting Tony's gaze because right now, she feels like back when Eli caught her smoking with Ari. Her pulse is beating hard in her temples while she gets to her feet and follows Gibbs, and she is not surprised at all when he hits the familiar switch to block the elevator as soon as the doors close behind them.
"Talk."
She never had any problems before when it came to meeting Gibbs' eyes, even if there were lies to be told, but now, she only keeps staring at the wall just above his left shoulder because it feels so much safer that way. "What exactly do you want me to talk about?"
He smacks his left palm hard against the wall beside her head, and she jumps, heart beating in her throat. He leans closer, into her face then, and the stare he gives her makes her skin crawl because underneath that he is, as Tony would put it, goddamnfuckinangry. And again, she swallows hard and looks away. Stares at the sling that holds his right arm, to keep her eyes busy.
"I... started seeing someone..." she finally admits. It sounds weird to her own ears, slightly off, just like her report.
"I already figured that part," Gibbs says, and she nods because she should have guessed it. Gibbs is Gibbs, after all, and Gibbs is far from stupid.
She clears her throat and tries to go on, but the right words have a hard time coming. Which is not surprising, because she always has trouble with them when the topic concerns... And then she closes her eyes and for a second she sees Nora gasping for air again, lips all blue and swollen, and suddenly the right words are no longer all that elusive. "... and it... distracts me to a degree that is not safe anymore..."
"No kidding," he says then, and since he doesn't sound quite as mad this time, she finally manages to meet his eyes and stand up straight under his gaze.
"... and I have no idea how I can prevent it from affecting me as much," she adds and hates it that such a simple sentence can make her feel so very exposed and ripped open. She just wants to wrap her arms around herself now and cower in a corner until it's all over, but all she actually manages is press her lips together tightly and raise her chin defiantly.
Gibbs leans closer, staring harder, and that is enough to make her feel nine years old all over again. And then, instead of yelling at her, he just sighs. "You let yourself be affected by him ever since I was in summer camp and not there to watch over you two, Ziva."
Her eyes widen, and oh, so this is what true panic feels like.
He knows. Gibbs really knows. Oh, no, no, no. This is bad. Words desert her, yet again. Only her muscles tense up while she balls her hands into fists, ready to fight. Watches his face, tries to figure out what comes next. And fails.
Gibbs is quiet just as long, only watches her face pale. "Just two options here, really," he nods eventually, stepping back. "One, you end it, right here, right now."
She clenches her jaw hard and stares at him with wide eyes, a loud, screaming panic rising in her gut. And she realizes that she can't do that, can't ever do that, because it has already turned into a thing too important to let go.
"And that will mess up both of you, badly," he sums up the expression on her face, and she shudders, waiting for the second option and hoping it is more acceptable. "Or you get used to him."
That makes her frown, and Gibbs sighs at that, nods and says, "Reports can wait, I'll hold off Vance. You and DiNozzo have the rest of the week off. Get used to him."
"How..."
She does get a slap then. Not one of those that sting badly, and she'll have to admit later that she deserved it. But it is just hard enough to make her shut up instantly and stare at Gibbs open-mouthed.
"I don't know, Ziva. You're a smart girl, you figure it out," he says, holding her gaze sternly until she feels her own blood pound in her ears. And then he leans closer to her ear and says, very quietly, "Frankly, I don't care if you'll have to fuck him from here to Ontario to get used to him being around you. But come next Monday, I want my two best agents back and fully functional. Is that clear?"
She winces, partly from the blunt words, partly from the truth in them, but finally she nods, a little jerky because this just isn't - can't be - happening.
"Good." He nods again, then turns and flips the switch. The elevator doors open and he storms out while she stays where she is, leans back against the wall and takes a deep, deep breath. Her hands are shaking badly by now.
"DiNozzo!" she hears Gibbs holler, and the sound that follows has to be Tony almost falling off his chair because he was most likely doing something that had nothing to do with the report he is supposed to type up. "You're with Ziva."
"Where to, Boss?"
"She'll fill you in. Move it."
When Tony reaches the elevator, he smiles at her so radiantly that it brings all her butterflies back full force in a heartbeat. There is also that special glint in his eyes that she only gets to see when no one else is around, and she knows by now what that short flicker means. What he wants. What he promises. And right then, right there, she is almost sure she never wants to get used to that promise being there.
"So where are we going, oh very favorite Probie of mine?" he asks smoothly, leaning against the wall beside her and watching her, all smile and muscle and smelling so delicious today. And because Gibbs is far away and no one else is around to notice, she feels his hand brush her back when he hands her her jacket and backpack, just a brief touch, accidental by all means.
She swallows, and her knees feel so weak all of a sudden that her laugh is actually shaky when she answers his question. "Ontario," she says, and that's not just her stomach aflutter with excitement now.