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When the world keeps spinning faster, into a new disaster, oh I run to you... I run to you baby. When it feels like it’s coming undone, baby you’re the only one I run to... I run to you.
- I Run To You, Lady A
She awoke with a startle – her body shaking as sweat dripped down her skin. Her breathing was erratic as she sat up, closing her eyes tightly before quickly opening them again. You’re awake, Ziva. She thought. You’re awake.
She took a deep breath, turning to the man beside her. Ray was sleeping, soundly, a small snore escaping his lips. She checked one more time to ensure he was, in fact, asleep, before slowly slipping out the covers as quietly as possible. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand.
She tiptoed across the floor and out of the bedroom, being careful to close the door behind her. She walked to the window, staring out of it for a few moments before twiddling the phone between her fingers and dialing a number.
"Hey, Ziva. Are you okay?” asked Tony groggily from the other line.
“I am sorry to wake you, I know it is late,” she replied. Her voice was soft and low.
“You don't need to be sorry, ” he replied, sobering himself. “What’s wrong?”
“I just...” she began.
“Had another nightmare?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Somalia?”
It had been nearly a year and a half since she had been rescued from Saleem’s camp. At first, the nightmares were near constant. The darkness of sleep did not bring her rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she was dragged back into the sweltering desert, the voices of Saleem’s men echoing around her. She would scream and cry, her hands instinctively punching the above her bed in front of her as she fought back, begging and pleading for them to stop. And then, when it felt never ending, she forced her mind to skip forward tor remember the moment she saw him again for the first time. The way her heart leapt in her chest at the sight of his disheveled hair, and his face - even more handsome than he had been.
She hadn’t planned on calling him the first time. After all, she still hadn’t explicitly told him everything that had happened to her. But, she knew that on some level he knew. Even if he didn’t know, it wasn’t hard to imagine. It’s what they did to everyone held in captivity in North Africa. She had given him small snippets of information, like tiny pieces of a jigsaw, and she knew that if he collected enough he would be able to piece the picture together without her ever having to explain what he was looking at.
The first time she had called him, he had answered almost immediately, with deep worry laced in his voice. And for the first time, to anybody but herself, she had admitted that she was struggling - that she could barely sleep because her mind wouldn’t allow her an ounce of rest. He sat on the other end of the line for hours with her, half talking, half exchanging a comfortable silence.
The more it happened, the more she called him - every time, giving him another piece to the puzzle. She did not go into vivid detail, but then she did not need to. There was nobody else in the world that knew her the way he did. Her silence spoke almost as loudly as the words she shared with him.
Every time, he was a gentleman, of course, and always asked her if she wanted to talk. He would provide her with soft words of encouragement such as “come on, Ziva,” but never pushed her to share anything more than what she was ready or willing to. Truthfully, she loved him for it. He was respectful of her boundaries - and if she decided not to talk about it, he would simply sit there in the silence with her until the tears stopped, or he would distract her by nattering on about something else, like a movie he’d just been watching. He knew exactly what to say, and when to say it. Nobody else in the world could calm her down like he could.
“You want to talk about it?”
“I do not know if it will help,” she replied. She turned from the window, settling herself into the couch, but facing - so in the event that she was awake all night, she would be able to stare out above the rooftops, and watch the sun rise.
“I'm ready if you do. Where’s C-I-Ray?” he asked.
“ He is asleep. I did not want to wake him,” she admitted, shaking her head slightly.
She and Ray had been dating for a long few months, and yet she still hadn’t told him about Somalia. She had mentioned it in passing, once or twice, but often she realized that he hadn’t been listening to her, and work was front and center in his mind. He would ask her to repeat herself, but she would simply shake her head saying that it wasn’t important, because she didn’t want to have to repeat it. She didn’t want to have to continuously relive the experience over and over again by recounting it for Ray. Her mind was doing enough of that while she was sleeping, or trying to. She didn’t want to have to tell him about the events leading up to her mission - of Michael Rivkin, her fight with Tony, and of her father ordering her to do whatever it took to get the mission done. She didn’t want to have to tell him about how her father left her there, to die in the desert. She didn’t want to have to tell him about the torture she faced for weeks on end — things that no human being should ever be subjected to . And more importantly, she didn’t want to have to tell him about how Tony and McGee got themselves captured on purpose in order to save her, even though they had no certifiable proof that she was alive. She just wanted to run to somebody who understood... to whom she did not have to explain any of those things.
Her body became clammy as another flashback teetered on the edge of her consciousness, threatening to pull her back into the abyss. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. As her mind focused deeply on the sound of her own heartbeat - attempting to stop it from racing - she did not hear the bedroom door open, or notice Ray, now standing there leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, eavesdropping on her conversation.
“You don’t want to talk to him?” Tony asked.
“No. I have not told him about Somalia. I have mentioned it in passing once or twice, but I do not think he was really listening. And, honestly, he would not understand,” she paused. “It is you that I want to talk to, Tony.”
“Well, my ninja... talk away.”
“ It is the same one I have had before,” she began. “But this time it was...”
“ Worse? ”
Ziva nodded to herself. “This time it was not just Saleem, but his men too,” a tear slipped down her cheek. “I was back in the camp. They had a hold of me and wouldn’t let go. I tried to scream, but I was weak.”
“Ziva, listen to me. You are the strongest person I know. You are anything but weak.”
“I know,” she replied, sniffling and smiling into the phone. “But it was right before they... I could feel their hands on me, Tony,” she croaked out, the tears brimming in her eyes, “as if it was happening all over again.” She let out a strained sob. Her mind started swirling and the air left her lungs. She panicked, gasping.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Tony said softly. “Ziva, breathe. You’re okay. Just breathe. I’m right here, and I’m going to do it with you. Just copy me.”
He took a deep breath through the phone, to which she followed his lead. He counted one... two... three... four... and then slowly exhaled. They did it again. One... two... three.. four. Exhale. And again. One... two... three... four. Exhale.
He stayed silent, on the other end of the phone, until her breathing was stable.
“Better? ” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted, smiling to herself. Her heart swelled, overwhelmed by how kind, caring, and attentive he was towards her; by the fact that he could detect the smallest changes in her tone of voice and her breathing, and instinctively knew what it was she needed from him in that moment. He really did know her unlike anybody else. “I cannot sleep though,” she continued. “Every time I close my eyes...”
“Ziva,” his voice was soft and calming. “What Saleem and his men did to you in Somalia is something that nobody should ever have to deal with. I know you’re tough - god knows you’re tougher than me, but it’s okay to fall apart sometimes.
“It has been more than a year and a half, Tony. I thought that I would be... over it, by now.”
“You have to accept the fact that you may never be over it, Ziva,” he said . “You can deal with it, and you can choose to move on... but the trauma? You will carry that with you for the rest of your life.”
“I am so sick of these nightmares, Tony.”
“I know. But you can’t choose when trauma strikes, Ziva, you know that. There is no rhyme or reason to it. Whether it’s in the middle of a coffee shop while you’re awake, or in a dream... it will happen when it happens. You have no control over it.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I just.. I guess I just feel like I should be...”
“If you say you should be tougher, I’m going to come over to your apartment right now and I’ll kick your ass.”
“ Good luck with that. You know you I could take you out with one good punch.”
“ Oh, I’m well aware of that, but it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try. Especially if it reminds you of how strong you are.”
She smiled, and she knew from the tone in his voice that he was smiling too. His charming, handsome smile. Oh, how it made her heart leap.
They sat there for a long while, the silence enveloping them on either end. When he couldn’t hear her breathing into the receiver, he finally spoke. “Ziva?”
“I am still here."
“I thought you might have fallen asleep on me or something. I mean, I know I talk a lot, but I’m not that boring, am I?”
Ziva laughed, wiping away the tears from her eyes. They were red and puffy, and yet, she knew that if Tony had seen her in the current state she was in, he would have gently caressed her face before enveloping her in his warm, safe arms. Safe.
“No,” she replied. “You are not that boring.”
“That’s good to know.” There was a long pause. “Are you feeling better now?”
“A little, yes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I know it’s hard, but try and get some sleep.”
“I will.”
“And if you can’t...”
“You are just a phone call away. I know.”
“Well, I’m going to roll over and hang up now. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She smiled into the phone. “Yes, you will.”
“Goodnight, Ninja.”
“Goodnight, Tony.”
The call disconnected. She held her phone close to her heart, smiling, as Tony filled her thoughts. God, she loved him with all her heart. It filled her with regret and sadness that he would never know. It was then, thinking of him, that a pang of guilt settled in her stomach. Ray was in the room next door. Shouldn’t she be thinking these things of him? She acknowledged that she probably should. But she couldn’t lie to herself. She loved Ray (or at least convinced herself she did). But she would never love Ray in the way, or to the magnitude, that she loved Tony.
She exhaled deeply. Surprisingly (or perhaps not, considering how Tony had calmed her down), she felt content. Of course, she still probably wouldn’t get any sleep, because though she did feel better after talking it through with Tony, her mind wasn’t quite so quick to surrender when it came to the solitude of semi-unconsciousness.
She rose to her feet slowly, turning around. For the first time, she noticed Ray, with a stern look on his face. His arms were crossed, and he was leaning against the side of the door frame, unimpressed by the situation.
“What was that about?” was the first question rolling off his tongue. His tone was bitter and laced with contempt.
“It was nothing,” Ziva replied, shaking her head
“Well, clearly it was something. You don’t just take phone calls in the middle of the night, Ziva.”
“It was nothing you need to worry about,” she stated. Would he even worry about it if she told him? Of that, she could not be sure.
“Are you really going to lie to me, Ziva?” he asked with condescension. “Was it him?”
“Who?” Her brows furrowed in confusion.
“ Tony .”
“I do not have to answer that,” she replied, walking into the kitchen. She pulled out a glass and filled it with some ice, followed by some water, before taking a sip.
“It was him, wasn’t it? Why were you calling him?” He spat the words out. His fists were clenched, and though there was a good distance between them, she took a step back. She didn’t think he would hit her, because she liked to believe that despite all of his flaws and transgressions, he was a self-respecting man who would never hit a woman. But, truthfully, she couldn’t be certain. There was a clink as she put the glass down, turning to him. Her voice was strong and sure.
“Who I choose to call, and about what, is none of your concern.” Her eyes narrowed at him. Who did he think he was?
“I’m your boyfriend, Ziva!” His voice was loud and authoritative. The two of them had never really fought before. Usually, there was not enough time to do so. He was hardly ever there, and the nights and days they did spend together were brief. She tried to make them as romantic as possible, because it was what she deserved, but she couldn’t help feeling that there was always something more... important on his mind. Something other than her. “It is my concern. My concern is that you’re willing to tell him things that you’re not willing to tell me.
“That is not-”
“The point? But it is, Ziva! The point is I am your boyfriend and Tony is just your friend! If you needed someone to talk to, why didn’t you wake me?”
Just your friend. Tony would never be just her friend. Couldn't Ray see that?
“Because you were not who I needed!” she yelled, louder than she intended.
“You needed him?”
“Yes! I needed Tony!”
“Because I don’t understand, right? That’s what you told him?”
“Right! Ray, you don’t understand. You will never be able to understand!”
“I might if you just let me in...” he pleaded with some sincerity. His voice was calmer than it had been, but she could still hear the twinge of anger.
“I do not want to talk about it!” Tears brimmed at her eyes. She didn’t want to be arguing with Ray, especially not about this. Couldn’t he tell that she was exhausted? Why did he have to pick a fight?
“Not with me!”
“No, Ray, not with you!”
“But why him, Ziva? Why do you need to talk to him about what’s going on?”
“Because you were not there in Somalia, Ray!” For a moment, she paused, her breathing heavy. “You were not there.”
“Tony was with you in Somalia?” Disdain dripped from his lips.
Ziva nods, wiping a tear away. For the first time that evening, Ray inched closer to her. She wondered if he was going to lovingly touch her by caressing her cheek... but he just stood, still. Oh, how she wanted Tony's arms to hold her and tell her she was going to be okay.
“I want to help you, Ziva,” he said. “But I can only do that if you tell me what happened.”
She shook her head. “I do not want to relive it.” She brushed past him, walking into the living room. “Please do not push me to do so.” Why didn’t he understand?
“But I need you to let me in, Ziva…” Her fists clenched at her side. It was her turn to be angry.
“You do not care! I have tried telling you but you do not care, and you do not listen!”
“I do, Ziva!”
“No, you do not, otherwise you would not be asking me to tell you!”
“I need to know what happened-”
“Fine! You really want to know what happened to me out there?!” She yelled at him. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke. She had not planned on telling him like this, but she found that the words could not stop. She paced back and forth, holding her necklace between her fingers. Tony was right. She was strong. And if she was going to say it, she was going to say it now, otherwise she might lose her nerve. “You really want to hear about how I was raped by thirty different men over a period of weeks? How when one man would finish they would look at me and another would take over and it would last for hours and hours? How they covered my head with a sack so I was in total darkness, unable to scream while they violated my body in every way possible? Do you really want to hear about the way they hit and beat my entire body was bruised from head to toe, or how I was tortured so badly that the only thing I wanted was to die, until Tony saved me? Is that what you want to hear?!”
Stark silence enveloped them. Ray’s face dropped, stunned. Of all the things he had imagined about Somalia, he had not been expecting that.
“Ziva, I-” he began. Ziva shook her head.
“I do not want to talk about this anymore."
He walked into the living room, standing opposite her. He went to reach for her, but she shrugged him off, putting her hands up. “Ziva-”
“Tony saved me, Ray.” Her voice was low and quiet, as she looked out the window, and then to him. “He saved me, in more ways than one. There are things about my time in Somalia that Tony understands in a way that nobody else can. If you care about me at all, you will accept the fact that when it comes to this, Tony will always be the one I run to. It is just... different with him.”
She stormed into the bedroom, leaving Ray alone - silent. She locked the door, pacing back and forth as she inhaled and exhaled slowly. She heard muffled sounds of tinkering come from the other room. Then, the clinking of keys. Seconds later, the front door shut. Ray had left. She sighed. She knew they would talk about it in a couple of days once he had cooled down, hopefully the two of them with clearer heads. But she had neither the energy or the desire to do anything about it right then. In that moment, there was only one thing she wanted. She pulled out her phone, dialing.
“You’re still awake?” she asked as he answered.
“I lied when I said I was rolling over,” Tony replied. “I’ve got a cramp from holding my phone in my hand for the last half hour, waiting for you call me back.”
“How did you know I would?” she smiled.
“Just a feeling I had.” He paused. “So, I'm thinking about getting a goldfish. I was watching this documentary the other day...”