Chapter Text
The biggest change in her life doesn't even occur to Ziva until later that day, when she's sitting on the terrace of her hotel, surrounded by chattering tourists.
She has a thick blanket draped across her legs while she waits for her friend to return with hot drinks to warm them up after half a day spent on the slopes, and her cheeks glow and her fingertips sting from the bite of the cold. She has no idea where R gets his unnatural drive and energy from. Her own body is sore and her muscles strained, but for some reason Ziva doesn't really mind. It's been such a marvelous day, and she has rarely felt more alive than she does right now.
She snuggles deeper into her blanket with a contented sigh. And just then, while she turns her face into the sun and lets it warm her face, she realizes that she is actually happy. She blinks and watches the sun set, and her heart stumbles minutely over the new concept and then takes a few moments to settle down again to its regular pace.
She certainly had no idea that she's never been truly happy and at peace before in her life, and the thought is a somewhat disconcerting one. But it's not entirely on the bad side of things.
So that's what it feels like.
She wants to react to this rather fundamental moment but her mind is too surprised by it and her thoughts want to pull a Tony on her and go into a dozen different directions at once. After a while she gives up and leans back in her seat, waiting for R to return instead and wondering if she'll talk to him about this.
She probably will, simply because he's the only person in her life who doesn't judge her one way or the other and because they have already talked about more things than Ziva has ever lost words about in her entire life. And because he likes her and it would make him happy to hear that she is, too.
It still feels weird to trust someone in the way she trusts him, even though she knows she has no active choice in this. But Ziva isn't used yet to having friends outside the small circle she works with, and up until now these have been more than enough for her to handle. Her social skills have never been the best, after all, and they were always easily strained by circumstances. But R -- and yes, it still amuses her how they slipped into the habit of calling each other by the first letter of their names so easily, lending their friendship a secretive air that is in stark contrast to the openness of the relationship itself -- R has lately filled a void she hadn't even known existed inside her.
She's certainly not used to being with someone just for the sake of spending time and having fun. Not for social responsibilities, not because the other party wants to get into her pants, and not just because she has crucial information or a mission to act out. R simply likes her, and Z likes him, and that's about it. There are no strings attached and no further expectations between them. Nothing except friendship.
For some reason she feels vaguely unsettled by that concept now, much like she feels about being at peace. It's just so strange to her, like it's not supposed to really be for someone like her.
And maybe that's true. But maybe it's just all those years of bending over backwards to fulfill other people's expectations catching up with her now. Years she has spent with trying to figure out how to be a good daughter, a reliable weapon, how to fit in, how not to ask questions, how to be more than a friend and less at the same time.
She blinks and suddenly realizes another thing: there is one exception to these.
Tony may have wanted -- and gotten -- a lot of things from her over the years, but he certainly never expected them.
She feels even more unsettled all of a sudden, and there's a tiny ache in her chest that she can't really place. All she knows is that now it doesn't feel like a perfect day anymore. Because it's not Tony getting the hot drinks for them.
Ziva takes a few slow breaths to get a grip, and while she does, her hand digs around in her coat pocket until her fingers close around her cell phone. Her thumb brushes the smooth side of it, and she's hesitant, not sure what she's supposed to do now or if she even wants to do anything about it.
But then she feels a bit of that same ache again, and she thinks that a simple text message never hurt anyone. And if he wants to make fun of her for being sentimental, she can always claim to be drunk and confused by all the strangers around her, soaking her with unwanted Christmas spirit even while they're all trying to flee that very thing. She snaps her phone open and types and sends before she can change her mind.
'Merry Christmas,' she texts him, and that's all, even though she is tempted to add something more personal. But she can't think of anything that wouldn't sound clichéd or -- worse -- downright needy, and she's not ready yet to get mocked by Tony. So it's just that, two words, her heart. It's the spirit that counts, after all.
She's not prepared for the answer that comes mere seconds later, and she jumps when her phone suddenly vibrates hard while she is still staring at the screen, lost in thought.
'You, too. Break a leg yet?'
Fewer words than he usually has for her, but for some reason they make her smile, and she thinks it's sad that she can never tell him that because he'd probably make a bad joke out of it. But this time her reply comes with more ease because teasing him and being teased by him is more familiar territory and less abstract. Less... feeling.
'You wish. Sunbathing and waiting for a fancy drink before dinner.'
This time there is no answer, at least not as immediate as the first one, and after a few more moments she realizes that she has to be the one to keep talking if she doesn't want this to be all there is to it. So she does.
'Are you doing anything special?'
'Not really, same old Christmas stuff. Lord of the Rings marathon and getting loaded.'
She stares at the text and frowns, and she wants to say something about his way of dealing with things that aren't entirely on the sunny side, but the only reply that comes to mind is his name in a scolding tone of voice. But before she can come up with a way to translate this into a text message her phone vibrates again.
'Relax, not drinking myself into a stupor. Just wallowing a little. That's allowed, right?'
She keeps frowning at her phone, and yes, she desperately wants to comment on that one, too, but neither 'ok' nor 'good' seem to cut it, and these are the only replies that come to mind. That and a headslap.
'If you're good I'll bring you a present,' she compromises eventually, and she really hopes that he catches her drift and gives the bottle a rest. 'Want anything in particular?'
'Nah, I haven't been that good. Just bring yourself back, safe and sound.'
Her eyes widen while she reads the simple message, and suddenly she finds that she is blinking rapidly for a whole different set of reasons. It doesn't seem appropriate to feel like that, not about Tony, and certainly not after these few, innocent words. But she does anyway, and she tries to fight the fuzzy feeling in her tummy, and even though she manages mostly she still can't help the hint of a thought that tries to snag her attention. A thought that says being back in DC doesn't sound all that bad, because then she'd be with--
Her thumb hovers over the reply key while her slow breaths make puffy clouds in the cold air. She's still not sure what to say, not when it's Tony she's talking to and when actual talking is just too unfamiliar a thing between them. She hesitates long enough that her phone buzzes yet again.
'Maybe you could wear a bikini,' he tacks on as an afterthought, and just like her he's suddenly adding and subtracting and stepping around stuff that slipped through his guard. Still, Ziva finds herself smiling at her phone in a slightly silly way, and she's suddenly glad he can't see her because she's pretty sure her expression looks way too soft and indulging for her own good.
'In your dreams,' she texts back, shaking her head while she keeps smiling fondly.
'Nope. In my dreams you wear less.'
This time she actually laughs out loud, and she's still chuckling while she flips her phone shut and stuffs it back into her pocket. Her hand stays on it, though, and her thumb traces careful, methodical lines along the edges because she can't bring herself to let go just yet. When it buzzes again, she doesn't jump because this time she's not all that surprised.
'Listen. I know you're probably busy with your not-boyfriend.'
That's all there is, and she's not sure this time if he just sent the message too soon or if it's supposed to be a question or if it's just all he can bring up the courage for. She frowns at her phone and tries to make sense of this. And eventually she does, and she suddenly knows that if she doesn't answer now, he'll never talk about any of this when she's back home and that he'll expect her to pretend it never happened, too. And yes, apparently Tony does have certain expectations about her after all. They just don't quite match the ones she would like him to have.
Her thumb rubs the reply key slowly, and she feels heat rush her, the heat of anxiety and sudden, unexpected nervousness and other things she isn't supposed to feel. Especially not when it's her partner on the other end of the conversation. But the things she is supposed to feel have never made her happy so far, and maybe it's time to make some new rules and think about things that do. Make her happy, that is.
'Just dinner. I can call you later.'
It takes an effort to press send this time, and her heart beats loudly while she waits for his reply. Her phone stays eerily quiet, and the longer the silence stretches itself, the more nervous she gets. Wondering if he is actually ready for having his expectations adjusted. Wondering if she is, because the sudden flutter in her stomach tells her she isn't all that sure about it anymore.
This time she does jump when the buzzing alerts her of the new message.
'Sure. And I'll be only a little drunk, promise.'
Once again she wonders what he expects her to say to that, and once again she can't come up with anything this side of sappy, so she is actually relieved when R chooses this moment to return to their table, juggling two giant mugs of hot punch that most likely have a good dose of rum to them. Her phone feels strangely heavy in her pocket, but it stays quiet for now and she's glad about that.
A small part of Ziva wants to freak out about what she just initiated, and her mind is buzzing and wants to rush through possible scenarios... scenarios that may even include a few expectations of her own.
The bigger part of her, though, is too distracted to get scared, and she's mostly baffled now because it felt like the right thing to do and the right thing to look forward to and because the sensation of being happy is still fresh and intoxicating and maybe even applicable to the Tony situation, too.
It's not a bad feeling at all, even though she knows that it will take some getting used to.
It will also need a lot of work to stick with her. But if she doesn't screw it up this time, maybe she can hold on to it.