Eyes that won't shut up
AN: So, I'm in the middle of exams, and have been desperately trying to resist starting up another story. But I can't!! There's been too much great material lately/ spoilers to base stories off of! So, be warned… this is based on a spoiler that can be found on the EW website, talking about how Tony's curiosity about how Ziva spent her time in Israel will continue to grow and how someone named Michael will come into the picture…
Haha, so, I literally can't wait to find out what happens, that's why I'm writing a story for myself and for all of you!
Please enjoy!! Note: this chapter is primarily reflective, to set the stage for what is to come…
He'd said it to her evenly, as if he hadn't realized, or even been able to acknowledge the full meaning of his words.
"You'll say something, but your eyes, they just won't shut up."
He said it with conviction though, like he had a claim on her, like he knew her, like he had the skill and right to read her like an open book.
She laughed bitterly about it later that day.
Can you read me Tony? Can you really see my inner thoughts mirrored in my eyes? Can you?
If you could… my eyes would have spoken so much more to you by now, spoken of the secrets that you alone are not allowed to know.
He'd asked her if there was someone else. If that's why she hadn't wanted to leave.
In that fleeting moment, she would have killed to scream yes, to obnoxiously inform him of every explicit detail she could concerning her relationship with Michael. To tell him about their passionate cathartic sex in every place imaginable, to tell him about his smell and his laugh and his gorgeous body…. To tell him about how, when it was dark and stormy, Micheal had held her, and she had let him do so, how he had stroked her hair and she had warmed to the touch. How he had helped to heal old wounds left by a desired romance that never- got- to- be.
She had wanted to throw every conceivable detail in Tony's face, to talk until she was out of breath and he was fuming with jealousy (wishful thinking?). Just so she could prove to him that she wasn't the insensitive robot that he sometimes pegged her as, to prove to him that she wasn't immune to love.
She'd wanted to let him know what he'd missed out on.
But instead, she'd told him she didn't want to talk about it. Same old. It was easier that way.
When she'd gotten back from Israel, upon stepping onto the American soil, she'd made a resolution with herself.
I will not let my feelings re-establish themselves. It's easier without them. We will be strictly co-workers and friends, and that is all that I will want us to be.
But, naturally, she hadn't been able to help but take down her hair and put on a bit of makeup on the plane ride over to where the Reagan was docked. She'd had to look good… to keep up appearances, not because she'd wanted to look good for him…
She'd repeated her resolution like a mantra in her head all the way over to the bar where he was situated. But, the second she'd walked into that bar, and had seen Tony standing there, tanned and lively… was the second she'd known that that resolution would be impossible to maintain, especially in her state of post break up vulnerability.
When Tony came back, no longer agent afloat anymore… she'd tried to focus on the bad things, really had.
Like how nosy he was, how crude, how impolite.
She'd tried and she'd tried and she'd tried. Tried to pretend that his flirtation no longer put a smile on her face, tried to pretend that she didn't secretly smirk to herself whenever she noticed him checking her out. Tried to resist over analysis of every little morsel of attention that he directed towards her.
Continued to pretend that him posting the pictures of her in her bikini on his wall had really pissed her off, when really, the memory of that discovery still put a little smile on her face.
Her break up with Michael had left a void, and she needed something to fill it. She didn't want to go back to the days of endlessly repressing "disallowed" feelings… but what other choice did she have? No matter how much she conditioned her mind to disregard the fickle sentiments, things still kept trickling back. It was like Tony had sole power over some emotional tap in her brain, and could turn it on and off at his whim, to torture her with the incessant drip-drop of returning feelings.
She hated that he had this power over her. Hated it with every fibre of her being. She was so used to being autonomous, to making her own way in the world… to having complete control over her being.
She knew that this emotional burden would last and last and grow and grow unless she did something about it. Unless she found another Michael, an American Michael to redirect her focus.
Or unless, on one rainy day two months after she had given him her last teary goodbye in his Israelian apartment, he, striding into NCIS with a glint of determination in his eye, found her…
TBC!! Tell me what you think so far! Don't worry, the next chapter won't be reflective… it will be totally action packed!