Summary: When Ziva decides to take a stroll on a snowy day will she begin to accept her feelings for her mentor, or will she refuse to acknowledge them?
Rating: T (Slightly Suggestive but did not see it fit to be rated M)
Pairing: Ziva D./Monique L.
A/N: I know this story may seem random, and you would be correct in making this assumption. It is. I just needed to get some Mova feels out. We all know what that is like, yes? Enjoy!
It was that time of year again in Washington, D.C. Snow was starting to fall over the city and the air was cold, bitterly so in fact. I walk down a city side walk, bundled up in a thick blue winter coat and a contrasting red scarf. With my hands in my coat pockets, I walked through what I imagined were the slums in D.C. The area was poverty ridden and many of the building were tainted by layer upon layer of graffiti. My hair blew in the icy air and I allowed it to nip at my skin. In Israel, I had not gotten the same experience which I had here in the Western hemisphere. While it is true that I loved and could handle the heat much better, the occasional exposure to cold did not bother me much.
As I walked, all I could do was think about everything that I happened throughout these last several months. Walking helped me think. It seemed as though I had been walked for several hours until I end up at a park a few miles from the slums. I walk into the park, a good six inches of snow of the ground. I could feel it around my ankles, and lowermost legs. I then pull my hands from my pockets. They were covered with my gloves which kept my hands from freezing considering it was already twenty-three degrees, according to the billboard that was down the street.
With inexperienced hands, I reach down and scoop some of the snow into my hands and form a nicely rounded ball. Tossing it, I watched as it hit the trunk of a tree ten feet away. In that very instant, I could do nothing but hum contemplatively and wonder whilst the snowball I had created just shattered and landed along with more snow. My head lolled back and I look up to the sky, letting snow which had fallen to hit my face. She would love it here. I remembered our little talks. I remembered every single last one.
I recalled the time we were in France during the winter and it was snowing. She had expressed just how much she enjoyed watching as serene white crystal-like substances fell from the sky, creating inches upon inches of piles and unidentifiable masses. There was something so very peaceful and tranquil about the act. Doing so with cocoa, however clichéd, was even better. These were her words, to the letter. I then began wondering if it was perhaps creepy that I remembered that.
Keeping my eyes shut, I also relived each moment she and I had spent in other locations and my mind played her name, over and over and over again. Monique. A woman of European descent and the accent to match, five feet and nine inches tall, coffee-brown eyes, and lightly tanned skin; she was a woman so alluring and provocative, that I found myself barely able to resist the temptation.
My eyes opened to see the greyish sky which was present as it snows. Sighing, I allow my head to straighten out and I stretch out my neck. What was I to do? I was in deep and I did not even know in any sense how to handle myself. I did not know whether I should tell her, keep my mouth shut. This was my problem. Correction; this was one of my many complex, and complicated problems.
I let out a slightly frustrated growl, making and throwing ball after ball of snow at the tree. I only do so in the hopes of getting out some of this anger and resentment I feel. I felt this way because of Monique, because of the way I feel for Monique. And I should certainly say that the way I feel is no way to feel about one's mentor.
Inwardly swearing at myself, I exit the park and begin to walk a little bit. Cocoa. That actually sounded rather appealing right now. So, allowing my feet to dictate what the rest of my body's wants were, I go to the first café bistro I come across. It was Marie's Deli and Café on thirty-First Street. I found the staff to be friendly and the food to be satisfactory. Taking a seat by the window, I look at the menu list in front of me. A woman, middle-aged and blonde, comes striding towards me. Her familiar smile was on her rounded face.
"Hello Ziva!" Penny, the waitress greets. "What can I get for you?"
I think about it for a moment, and turn to her.
"I would like a hot cocoa and a Marie's signature cinnamon twist." I respond, handing her the menu.
Penny smiled and left me, off to fetch what I ordered.
"A nice choice." An accented tone spoke from behind me.
I turn sharply to see the one and only Monique Lisson standing there behind me.
"How did I know that you were going to order this?" She asked rhetorically, walking towards me.
She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled a chair over so that she could sit with me. I just sat there in stunned amazement. It could not have been her, there was no way. She grasped my hand, stroking it with her thumb.
"You have been remembering Versailles, no?" Monique questions further, releasing my hand and hers then goes to my thigh.
My breath hitched within my throat and my heart was beating a mile a minute, as if it could stop in any moment, as though it wanted to break free from my rib cage and sporadically flail about the room. My eyes were glued to her eyes and I could decipher the emotion within them. There was only this awe-striking and enthralling expression within those orbs.
"Tell me, Ziva… flashbacks, are they good for you?"
The more questions that she asked, the more I felt I was about to die due to the rhythm of my heart being so irregular, erratic that it would just suddenly fail me.
"Answer you going to answer me? Have a made you speechless?" Monique asked me tauntingly, snaking her hand up my thigh.
She must have noticed me inhale sharply and my eyes widen.
"Are you nervous yet?"
What kind of question was that? Could she not tell, or was she only asking just to gage my reaction? Wanting to deny it all, I shake my head. Her smirk turned more devious, as if she knew without a doubt that I was in fact nervous. Her hand began to massage the tissue of my thigh through my jeans.
"Here you are, Ziva. Thank you for stopping by again." Penny said as she came between Monique and me.
I nod and Monique retracts her hand. She stands from her seat.
"Shall I leave you to your snack?" She asked, fully prepared to leave me.
"No, no, no. You shall sit back down. Or have you forgotten? You are my snack, Monique."
She raised her eyebrows as if to tell me is that so before she sat back down, resting her chin in her hand. She watched me intently as I picked up my cinnamon twist and took a bite. I lick my lips and set it down on the white plate. Then, in an instant, I am caught utterly by surprise when Monique cupped my face in her hands and pressed her lips to mine. She allowed her tongue to delve into my mouth and she tasted the cinnamon on my mouth. Pulling away, she nodded, her index finger out with wisdom and judgment as she waved it in the air.
"Mm, yes; I now see why people enjoy this so much." She says as her accent thickening with satisfaction. "It is very delicious, strong, quite… spicy, yes?"
She allowed a finger to go beneath my chin and brought me towards her again. Her lips were less than centimeters from mine before she spoke another time.
"Let me know if you want me to stop." She murmurs, her lips brushing against mine before they crash into my own.
Just then my deep brown orbs open and I am still outside, looking up at the grey-blue sky while more snow continued to fall. My face felt numb due to all of the exposure. My mind went over everything that had just occurred and I shook my head, unable to comprehend any last bit of it. Was I a terrible person for feeling how I felt, thinking how I thought? Yeah, somewhat, at least in my honest opinion I was. Deciding something like that would never happen and that she would not be like nor love me any the sense that I do, I push the feelings away and refuse to acknowledge any of it as I try my hardest to enjoy my snow day.