The value of risk
By BHP
At least the lights weren’t blue, Tony mused as he rounded the corner of the hospital corridor to see Ziva leaving Roy Sanders’ room. He’d hated every moment he’d spent under the blue lights when he’d had the plague. It was hard to believe that had been almost two years earlier. Tony shivered at the reminder of that experience. Everyone always told you that all life’s experiences had a silver lining, but Tony was still trying to find the smallest sliver of truth in that statement, even now. There was certainly nothing to enjoy in forced isolation, unable to breathe and watching helplessly as the spectre of the Grim Reaper made his painfully slow way towards him. Blue was definitely not one of his favourite colours anymore.
He supposed that his ultimate survival would count as a good thing, but believing that he’d infected Kate had certainly cancelled out that benefit. Later, he’d understood that she didn’t want him to be alone, or as she’d believed at the time, to die alone, but that didn’t mean he’d ever stop being furious that she’d deceived him and endangered her own life, just for him. Still, his anger had given him strength he might not have had otherwise, so perhaps that was the only positive thing about the experience that he would ever be able to identify. Kate’s company was probably a positive thing, too, but learning that she cared enough to risk her own health didn’t mean much without her nearby to tease and irritate. And she’d always been so easy to nettle, her responses so predictable that Tony was sure she enjoyed the verbal sparring as much as he did. He was sometimes convinced that she’d deliberately chosen to respond in ways designed to further their arguments and friendly rivalry.
If he’d had to manage without Kate’s company, and Gibbs’ unequivocal order to live, Tony wasn’t sure that he’d have bothered to fight the disease at all. Sometimes, the fight just didn’t seem to be worth the price you had to pay for winning. Tony knew that the Navy shrinks would really have loved to get their hands on that thought, which was why he’d made a point of not mentioning it to them after Kate had died. He’d lived, survived what should have been fatal. And Kate had died, cut down by one bullet at the pinnacle of success, just when things should have been safest. Sometimes, Tony didn’t think the trade-off was fair: his life for hers. The world needed more people like Kate, confident people who cared about doing what was right and protecting those who needed a safer world to live in. He wasn’t sure it needed more people like him, with all his emotional baggage and insecurities.
Torn from his mental distraction by Ziva’s uncommon stillness, Tony noticed that she’d frozen in the corridor, people moving around her in patterns reminiscent of water swirling over a rocky riverbed. It wasn’t like Ziva to be oblivious of her surroundings, not with her background and training, and Tony realised that only something traumatic could have caused her lapse. Further proof was the fact that the young Israeli was crying, slow tears slipping unhindered down her cheeks.
It was then that Tony noticed the silence in Roy’s room: no beeping of machines, no nursing staff coming and going, no sign of the man’s doctors. The inevitable reality of death had forced its way into the world of the living again, no less painful for having been expected. And the pain was clearly written in Ziva’s eyes. Stepping just far enough towards Ziva to glance into the room, Tony saw that Roy’s sister had arrived in time to see him before he died. Turning his attention back to his partner, he laid a gentle hand on Ziva’s back and guided her towards the nearby chairs. Not even glancing at him, Ziva let herself be herded to a chair and offered a neatly pressed handkerchief.
Wiping her face and eyes seemed to bring Ziva back to reality. She straightened in the chair, and Tony could see the effort it took to force her emotions back behind a façade of professional strength and impartial compassion. Finally prepared, she glanced at him, then looked away again. “Why are you here, Tony? I told Gibbs that I would let him know when …” Words failed her for a moment, and then she took one deep breath, “ … when the Lieutenant died.” A slight hitch of voice on the last word betrayed her emotions again. Biting her lip, Ziva raised her head to stare Tony in the eye.
The compassion staring back at her from those green eyes was almost too much to take. Before she could say another word, Tony rose to his feet, holding out a hand to her. “Let’s go get some coffee, Ziva. I think you need a change of scenery.” A slightly cheeky grin flickered across his face at her reluctance to take his hand, but the patient stance never wavered, until she reached out and felt him tug her upright. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off a chill only she could feel. Settling into a comfortable pace beside her, Tony led her to the elevator and downstairs to the canteen. He made a point of not noticing how she unconsciously stroked her fingertips over the edges of what looked like an orange woollen cap tucked into her pocket. Five silent minutes later, he settled two cups of coffee on a sheltered table in a deserted corner of the large room.
“First off, I’m not here for Gibbs. Just this once, he can get his own update.” Tony looked wryly amused at that thought; knowing that Gibbs probably already knew all there was to tell. Even after all the years he’d spent working with Gibbs, Tony was still at a loss as to how the other man always seemed to know everything. In spite of that single frustration, Tony took immense comfort in the very fact that Gibbs always knew how any situation had played out and what to do about it. Which meant that Gibbs most likely knew that Tony was at the hospital with Ziva, not to mention that Gibbs probably also knew why Tony had felt the need to be there.
“I’m here to see how you’re doing, Ziva.” Unaccustomed to being the centre of attention for reasons other than her work, Ziva dropped her eyes to the cardboard coffee cup, fiddling with the rim in an attempt to keep her mind away from Roy. She didn’t want to let her mind drift back to that room, to the bed that would soon be empty and the person who would never smile at her again. They could have been so much more than just friends, she was sure of it. But she’d never had the courage to say anything to Roy when she’d seen him out running in the early mornings, and now she regretted all the wasted time. She stared unseeing at the paper cup, picturing futures that would never be, happiness she’d never experience.
Tony’s hand suddenly covered hers, pulling her back to reality. Prying her fingers off the cup, he kept a gentle grip on her fingers. She realised then that she’d shredded one section of the cup and the coffee was in danger of spilling through the gap. Pulling her fingers from Tony’s hold, she lifted the cup in suddenly shaking hands and took a sip. Pulling a disgusted face, she stared into the cup and muttered, “This is worse than that stuff that Gibbs likes. Are you sure there is any coffee in this?”
Tony laughed softly, and snagged her chilled fingers again. “Didn’t you know hospital coffee is supposed to taste dreadful, Ziva? I’m not sure whether it’s meant to keep you awake, or make you glad you don’t have to stay here, or whether it’s intended to make you leave as soon as you can, or perhaps it’s just supposed to make you feel as bad as the person you’re here to visit.” Ziva’s look made it clear she thought the aim of making such terrible coffee would be to increase the hospital’s income by providing a steady stream of new patients.
Tony squeezed her hand, straightened in his plastic chair and smiled brightly, insincere as a telemarketing consultant. “I’m planning to do a study one day to find out. Care to be my first test subject?” Her look of confused amusement encouraged him to continue. “Question one. Please rate the beverage’s appearance on the following scale of one to five, with one being ‘Dishwater’ and five being ‘Sludge’. Please take your time thinking about this; we’d like a considered opinion.” Ziva gave in to the absurdity of the situation and laughed.
Deciding to play along for a moment, she looked deeply into the cup, and tilted her head as she considered possible answers. Seriously, she answered, “I think I will have to go for a ‘four’, which I believe would be ‘Muddy water’. Although the potential for ‘Sludge’ is quite high, I would think. Ten minutes of cold air should do the … trick, I believe the phrase is?” Tony nodded, and Ziva mused, “Though why that should be a trick, I don’t understand. Is a trick not like a magic act, where some badly dressed man in a cape pulls white rabbits out of hats?”
Tony snickered. “True. But in that sense, your coffee probably has as much chance of turning into the real thing, as that guy has of being a real magician. Remind me to lend you a DVD of a David Copperfield show some time. Now there’s a real magician.”
Ziva sighed and dropped her eyes to the table, using a fingertip to follow the marks and intertwining scars left on the plastic surface by previous visitors. “Why is this David Copperfield so special, then? What can he do that no other magician can do; raise the dead?”
Tony’s light-hearted attitude vanished immediately. Finally, as he’d known they would, they were getting to the real reason he was here. Laying his hands over her fingers, he sighed. “No. I don’t know anyone who can do that. If I did, Kate would still be alive. And so would my mother.”
Ziva glanced up at that. Tony never mentioned his mother, and when she’d done her research on the team before coming to the United States, all she’d learned was that Tony’s mother had died when he was still a child. Maybe there was nothing more to tell, but she’d always wondered how losing his mother at a young age had helped to mould Tony into the man he was now. But now, when it seemed as though she might learn the truth, she realised she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to be the one to make Tony relive an experience that had caused him pain.
“Tony, stop. You don’t have to say anything more.” Ziva shook her head, then tucked a strand of wayward hair behind her ear with a quick movement, before putting her hand back on top of Tony’s hand, where it rested patiently on the table. Tony graced her with a genuine smile for her concern, then nodded. “Yes, I do. You need to hear it.”
“It took me a long time to learn how to live without my mother being there. I’m sure you’ve done background research on my family, so I don’t think I need to tell you anything much about my father.” Ziva shook her head slightly, until Tony tipped his head in acknowledgement. “As you might have guessed, my father wasn’t much comfort, so I just muddled my way through until I managed to figure things out for myself. And the conclusion I came to is this: my mother isn’t really dead.” Ziva’s eyes locked on Tony’s at that statement. Had he finally lost his mind?
Tony smiled gently. “I don’t mean literally, of course. I know she’s gone, physically. But I remember her. I remember that she read me stories, hugged me when I was little, made my day seem brighter just by smiling at me. She may have had her problems … and don’t we all … but she loved me. Just as I am. For no other reason. And as long as I remember that, she’s always with me.”
Ziva considered this in silence. After a couple of minutes, Tony spoke again. “I won’t presume to tell you that I know how you feel right now. Heaven knows, it’s never been true when someone said that to me. All I can say is that I’ve also lost people I care about, and that I’m here if you want to talk to me.” Ziva let that statement sink in, recognising that Tony was sincere, but seeing also that he had no intention of pushing if she didn’t want to talk. In spite of how she felt, old habits died hard. Her father had trained her to be self-sufficient. “I’m fine, Tony. After all, it is not as if I loved him, no?”
Tony regarded her carefully, his head tilted thoughtfully to one side. Finally, he nodded. “True. But the possibility was there, and now you’ll never know. And that has to hurt almost as much. Either way, you’ve still lost a friend.” Tony shrugged slightly, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks. “I’ve never told anyone this, but that’s kind of the way things were for me, with Kate. The possibility was there, but we never acted on it, and now it’s too late. The only comfort there, is that I know she was one of the best friends I’ve ever had, no matter what she might have told me to my face.” Tony’s eyes lost focus as he replayed some of Kate’s sharper comments in his head, and he laughed. “Actually, I think most people would have had the idea that she couldn’t stand me.”
Confusion suffused Ziva’s face. She had always thought that everything about Gibbs’ team had been a model of harmony and perfect teamwork. There was certainly an office-wide belief that no other team could ever hope to be the equal of Gibbs’ people. “But if that is how it seemed, how are you so sure that they are wrong?”
Tony thought a second, and asked, “I assume you know that I had the plague?” At Ziva’s nod, he carried on. “Well, Kate wouldn’t leave me alone. Even when she knew that she didn’t have it as well, she refused to leave my room. She wouldn’t leave me to dwell on what was happening, how I was going to die. She knew it wouldn’t be pretty, and she chose to stay anyway. That’s not something you do for someone you hate.”
Ziva gave that thought due consideration and nodded once. Tony knew he was starting to get through to her and made his final point count. “And that’s what you did for Roy. You chose not to leave him alone, even though you knew he wouldn’t survive. At least Kate had the possibility of my survival to hang on to, if Gibbs could find the answer in time. You had no hope at all, and yet you stayed. That’s not the action of someone who doesn’t care, Ziva.”
Tony’s hand reached for hers again. “But you have one more thing to consider here as well. Roy can’t tell you this, but let me. I’ve been where he was, knowing that you’re going to die a horrible death. The one thing that makes it even remotely bearable, is knowing that you’re not alone, that someone cares enough to stay with you and keep you company. That someone will remember you when you’re gone.” Ziva felt Tony’s fingers tighten on her hand with the force of his argument, and then a tone of wonder filled his voice, “You know, I think all this has finally helped me to understand Kate’s choice. I’ve been angry at her for so long about the decision she made back then, but I’ve seen things from her point of view this week. Thanks to you. And it makes so much sense now. When you care that much, there’s no other choice to make.”
Ziva’s breath caught at the look on Tony’s face. He’d loved Kate, that much was clear, and she knew then that she had to tell him the truth, even if she never told another soul. “I do … did … care for Roy, maybe I even loved him in a way. If you can call it love, when you’ve known someone only a few days. Can you really fall in love with someone that quickly, I wonder?”
Tony pondered that, and finally nodded. “Anything is possible, Ziva. In a perfect world, you two would have had more time together, time to be sure.” She smiled sadly in response, and shook her head. “I never thought that I would say this about myself, but I think I am a coward. I was afraid to take a chance. Whenever I saw Roy out running, with that ridiculous orange hat on his head, I would think about saying something, and then say nothing. I let my fear dictate my actions.”
Tony shook his head sharply. “Ziva, that’s not true. A coward wouldn’t have stayed in that room with him.” As she shook her head in denial, Tony overrode her objection. “You and I, we’re a lot alike. Neither of our fathers is a walk in the park to deal with. We’ve learned to build a strong façade, to show the world what it expects to see.” Tony sighed sadly at that thought. “We’re both afraid to let people inside our defences, because then we’ve given them the ability to hurt us. But sometimes, it’s worth the risk. Having Kate as a friend, even though she’s gone; having you and the others as my friends now, it’s worth the risk. It’s the right decision to make, for me, but it’s not one I can force on you.”
The determined concern in Tony’s voice was Ziva’s breaking point. She raised her eyes to Tony’s face, and vowed, “It is a risk I will take. I think, perhaps, it is a risk I have no choice but to take.” Uncertainty flared deep in her dark eyes. “As long as you’re all there to take it with me.” Tony’s tight grip on her hand silently confirmed the team’s support. As the tears finally started to fall, Ziva held on to the promise that she wasn’t alone anymore.
Story Notes:
As usual, all the standard disclaimers apply: none of the characters are mine, and neither is the show. I’m always pleased to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to drop me a line. (This has also been archived on FFnet.)
Author's Chapter Notes:
Tony helps Ziva to deal with the events of "Dead man walking" in season four.
Chapter End Notes:
As usual, all the standard disclaimers apply: none of the characters are mine, and neither is the show. I’m always pleased to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to drop me a line. (This has also been archived on FFnet.)