Summary: Companion piece to "The Undeniable Truth"; from Ziva's POV. Ziva cancels Movie Night, and Tony gives her a call.

Disclaimer: I would give my left eye to own NCIS. It's not very good; it's short-sighted and overworked. On second thought, maybe NCIS deserves more. I'll keep my eye.

Spoilers: None.

This story is written by suggestion of Hannelovestiva. I hope you like it :) It's slightly more angsty than Tony's version, though. But just a tinge. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed "The Undeniable Truth"! Have some chocolate on me!

-Soph


The Simplest Act

It wasn't exactly unexpected when she got down into the warm lobby of her apartment building and looked out to find that her car had been buried beneath a pile of snow and was now an indistinguishable lump, like the rest of the cars lining the quiet street.

She breathed out a silent sigh, peered longingly at the happily humming heater, and then stepped out into the blistering cold. Trudged over to where she remembered her car was parked, struggling as her shoes threatened to sink into the soft snow. Eyed the misshapen form up and down. If looks could melt ice, she would be able to see her car by now, but of course they couldn't and she wasn't. She threw a frustrated punch at the snow that covered it. Mini avalanche. Smart move, Ziva.

She switched to glancing up and down the street instead. She wondered if there was any public transportation she could take, but didn't seem very likely. Reluctantly pulling her feet out of the holes that they had created, she went back into the lobby, shivering a little at the sudden temperature change. She rubbed her arms, and then took out her phone and dialled. Tony was not going to like the news she had to deliver.

He answered on the first ring, and her heart skipped a beat at hearing his voice. She mentally cursed herself for not having given herself enough time to get prepared; when it came to loving Tony, preparation was what she needed to feign indifference. "Ziva. You coming now?" He sounded so hopeful.

She took a deep breath, trying desperately not to seem too upset. "No. My car has been snowed in."

"Oh." Tony paused. "Let me check if my car – shit. Yeah, mine's snowed in too."

The line buzzed with static. "We will have to cancel Movie Night, I guess," she finally said.

"Yeah." Miserably.

"Do not worry, Tony, we will have other Movie Nights."

"Yeah."

"I will see you on Monday."

"Yeah. Bye."

"Goodbye." She hung up, and a sad smile crossed her face. She hadn't wanted to cancel on him, but not for the world would she have given him such a weapon as knowing she actually felt unhappy over having to do just that. Because she would never hear the end of it from him then, and she didn't know if that was something her sanity could handle. He already had her heart, after all; how much more of herself could she possibly give him?

She turned the corner and started up the stairs, her eyes searching the place constantly. It was in her nature, to always be on the lookout for things that could harm her; she only ever let down her guard when she was with her teammates. They had a knack for making her feel safe when no one else could, Tony excepted. But then of course Tony was a different story altogether. She trusted him to protect her from others; just not himself. Like the knives she kept strapped to her person.

She got to her apartment, let herself in, and locked the door. She had gotten herself a glass of red wine and was about to sit down on her couch and wind down when her phone rang and she jumped, spilling a little of her wine onto the living room carpet. She scowled. Talk about letting her guard down. Checked the Caller ID. Tony. She put the phone to her ear, expecting him to tell her that he'd found some way for her to get to his place.

He, however, told her that he had pressed the wrong number. Okay, then. She could hardly get mad at him over that. Still, the words were as unwelcome to her ear as a fingernail scratching against dusty chalkboard, and a tiny crack formed in her heart as she again pretended not to care and said goodbye and made to hang up, so that he could call whomever it was that he seemed so eager to call on the night that they were supposed to have spent together. And she knew that it was a childish sentiment of hers, but try as she might, sophistication always belonged to matters less important. Then he said, wait, and she froze. Something that felt ridiculously like false hope flooded her veins.

"Yes?" She asked him, and truth be told she sounded more surprised than anything else.

His next sentence caught her off-guard. "Let's just talk."

She wondered how to respond to that. A string of thoughts ran through her mind as she tried to process what he could want to talk about. "Talk?"

"Yeah. You know…we never really talk enough."

That was news to her, considering that they had just spoken; and she told him so. And when he said that it didn't count, she finally got it. Perhaps he hadn't misdialled; perhaps he hadn't wanted to call anybody else. Perhaps he hadn't even wanted to talk to her about anything particularly important. Perhaps he simply wanted to listen to her and hang out with her and pass through the night with her. And now it didn't seem so bad that she had missed him. She snuggled into a corner of her couch, wine glass in one hand, phone in the other, and started to tell him about her favourite movie.

On some days, he was her entire world.