Far Away

The Talk

The conversation was further postponed by Abby, who attacked Tony the second she saw him.

They stood there in the bullpen for a good two hours, catching up on everyone's summers.

It was close to midnight when Tony said, "I'm bushed. Think I'm gonna head home."

McGee looked at his watch and cringed. "Yeah, me, too."

Ziva took that as her cue to grab her things from her desk.

She half-expected Tony to try to talk to her, and maybe he did, but Abby walked them all down to the parking lot, keeping up the conversation.

She'd thought she didn't want to talk about it, but she was somehow disappointed when she got into her car and started to head home.

Her phone buzzed but she ignored it until she stopped at a red light. Maybe she was reckless in her career, but she wasn't one to text and drive.

It was Tony.

"Your place in ten?" the text read.

Her heart raced, maybe out of excitement, maybe out of anxiety. She couldn't tell.

"Sure."

She dropped the phone in her lap as the light turned green and accelerated maybe a little quicker than she should have.

She wanted to get home.

She wanted to see Tony.

***

He said ten minutes, but it was more like fifteen. He parked a block away from her apartment and then sat in his car, trying to work up the courage to go inside.

What was there to be nervous about? This was Ziva. His partner. His friend. He shouldn't be nervous.

But his palms were sweating, and his leg was bouncing a little.

"To hell with it," he muttered, finally getting out of his car. He walked up to the building and slowly made his way up the stairs.

The door opened before he could knock, and he wondered if she had been standing there listening for his footsteps.

"Hi," he said. It came out sounding like he hadn't spoken in half a million years. He cleared his throat.

"Hi," she responded, opening the door further so he could enter her apartment.

"So..." He wasn't sure where to go or what to say. Funny, since he was the one who made the plans in the first place.

She took a seat on the couch, so he followed her lead and sat at the other end, leaving a safe distance between them.

"I assume you want to talk?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"I mean, we don't have to-"

"Tony."

"Alright, that's kinda what I had in mind, but..." His voice fizzled out again.

"I know."

He wasn't sure he wanted to go through with this.

"What did you want to talk about?"

He shrugged. "Summer, but I mean... I think we're both pretty much up to speed."

He knew enough about the incident in Morocco. He didn't need to force her to talk about it.

"Not on everything."

He raised an eyebrow.

She stared at her hands, wringing them as she struggled to find the right words. "Things have changed."

"What things?" he asked stupidly.

"Us."

"Oh." It was like some switch in his brain had been flipped; instead of racing, it now felt like his thoughts were moving in slow motion. Extremely-slow slow motion.

Were they actually about to have the talk?

*****

Okay, I lied.

I don't have time to get into it today.

But I will hopefully have time tomorrow. I'm running a Friendsgiving event for my building, but I should have time after that.

Tomorrow there will be Tiva.

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