Work Text:
Growling stomach, she heads north through the olive grove. Cascading light leading the way and marking the spot; the spot with too many memories to bear.
A breath, she stops in the mist of whispering leaves. “We will have a child,” she whispers. The words, like her courage, dissipating into the trees.
Desperation and love dance in her mind, painting the woes of the past: the begging, but her cowardice, too strong.
Her demons, but somehow, he too had to bear arms. Had lost her to them.
And so, after a romantic summer where two had become one, a spark formed and painted a future that burned with goodbye; the harshest word to bring forth.
It had meant to be indefinite to protect his soul, but their daughter, an unexpected gift. Perhaps, a parting gift, a companion he’d known she’d need. A meeting that might have never been, inevitable now.
First, write to him.
...
‘Dear Tony.’ Delete. Delete. No words adequate enough to tell him he’s a father. How to express her sorrow, doubt, forgiveness. Would he want her after it all?
Once a warrior, now crippling with fear.
A picture, she holds dearly stares, glares. A breath out, the fear. A breath in, strength.
Tonight, she would write. All else would be in his hands.
…
A call to Nettie who gently pushes, “call him Zivali.”
The uncertainty, haunting. The endless possibilities, unsettling.
She would write.
...
Open laptop. '1 new email'. Click.
From: Anthony DiNozzo. Heart pounding angrily.
Read, she encourages.
'Dear Ziva,
....
Yours forever, Tony’
Tears tumble, mingling with her tea.
Her, the source of his pain. Him, the source of her love. Opposite sides of magnets that attract when they should repel.
Second, buy a plane ticket.
…
Sleep deprived, she boards her flight.
I’ll wait for you, the echoing words that fueled her.
The baby in her womb, calming.
She could do it.
...
The city coated in black. The blurred lights, flashing by. The anxiety, growing.
Her cowardice, dissipating.
I’ll wait for you.
“We’re here, miss.”
Now or never, she encourages.
Rapidly beating heart. Trembling hands. Shaking legs.
One step. Another. Stairs.
Each step, heavy. Head, pounding.
Minutes snake by as she stands in front of the door.
Knock. No response. Another knock. A moment, and then the door opens. His face before her, “Hello Tony.”