Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For as long as Tony could remember, long conversations were off the table. Conversations meant sharing feelings, sharing carried a degree of vulnerability he was rarely willing to allow, expressing feelings he wasn’t ready to deal or share with anyone else. All the work of putting his thoughts in order, letting someone see him sad or angry or…that wasn’t for him. 

It was easier to deal with loneliness. 

Meaningless one-night stands made sure no one stayed, no one saw his mask fall off at the end of the day, no one got to see the real him, the version of himself he didn't even know fully. Growing up alone, with no one to share his sadness or good things with, no one who really listened to what he felt or thought, was the norm. 

He’d tried his best to fill the emptiness in his heart, but it all felt bland, tasteless in his mouth. He knew he could do better, succeed expectations quicker and faster than anyone else, prove to his dad he didn’t need help to achieve things but kept falling short in every aspect. Not even Baltimore — which ended in betrayal — or Wendy — which ended in crushed expectations and his romantic ideals crushed to bits — made much difference.

Then, Gibbs happened. 

The job gave him opportunities. His boss taught him commitment, patience, using his brain for more than just clever jokes and practical pranks. It allowed him to hone his skills without losing part of his personality, to grow as a person, and boost his confidence. 

The job gave him hardships too; darkness and pain and unfairness when they were just trying to help. He learned what true, blinding pain felt like, physically and emotionally. It peeled him raw, but he came out a better man because of it. 

The job gave him a family. There was Gibbs, the man who taught him more than his own dad ever did. Kate, whose memory lived on inside a tiny bowl filled with regret and burdens. McGee, who gave just as good as he took with time. Abby, the little sister he thought he’d never had. Ducky, whose stories and cadence entertained him when everything else was bleak. Even Palmer, with all his quirkiness, felt like another brother he could rely on.

An imperfect family that dealt with stuff privately but bonded when it truly mattered, when someone's life was at stake, when being a team truly meant trusting each other's skills and instincts in critical situations. 

Slowly, conversations stopped being scary. They were easier to have in the middle of four metal walls, over beers and steak or surrounded by corpses and coolness under him. He wasn’t alone in his struggles. These people understood him, saw through him even when he tried his hardest to hide. He owed it to them to grow, or at least try his hardest to be better. He’d give everything he had for any of them. 

The job gave him Ziva.

He could still recall their first meeting. The agonizing pain he was hiding through jokes and hallucinations that she saw right through, the call-outs and her attitude, so different from what he had just lost. She was captivating under the rain, brown eyes he could get lost in for hours. Sat in front of him, he memorized the shape of her curls and the softness of her lips, picturing what it’d be like to feel them against his own. 

Conversations were a sparing match with her. Ziva was smart and driven in ways he’d never seen before. It took all his effort to keep up with her wit. He tucked away everything he learned for future use. Every habit, every like or dislike, every book or magazine she liked to read.  Everything she did was hypnotizing, a drug he couldn’t get enough one and one he’d be hooked on for the rest of his life. 

Conversations became a dance he tried to master; sometimes well-practiced, step by step without stepping on each other's toes. Sometimes messy, without rhythm or coordination, hard to get a good grasp on what the next move was. In the really bad, horrible moments of their friendship — or relationship they both refused to admit for a stupid rule he'd never should've listened — the dance turned destructive. 

He waltzed through every version like a pro, took every hurt and enjoyed the good moments when they came., Despite the hurt and misunderstandings, Tony couldn’t imagine his life without her. He knew what the hole she left behind with her absence felt like, it kept oozing until there was nothing left in him. Still, he was glad Ziva was back. 

For a moment, it felt like everything would be alright again. 

They could finally be a family again. Him, Ziva and Tali, the way it should’ve been from the start if she hadn’t  — no, no. He’d promised himself to not go down that path, the things Ziva had done and her choices were not his to judge, not when she was finally within his grasp and their life had begun resembling something normal. 

Was he hurt by them? 

Yes, but what good would it do to rehash past mistakes that lead nowhere? 

They needed honesty in their words, to say the unspoken things between them holding them back, but he couldn’t. Tony couldn’t hurt her, she’d been through enough and he knew, god, he knew holding back would come back to haunt him, but he didn’t expect it to be right before what was supposed to be the happiest moment of his life. 

Marriage was supposed to fix it. It would show Tali were made for each other and all the pain was worth it for their silly, happy movie ending. But things were never that easy, not for them. The day they called it quits, he took comfort in the idea it was for the best. Years of trying and failing and ignoring whatever sparked and died between them every so often was tiring. They worked better as partners, co-parents, old flames that would never stop burning but together were a supernova; for all its beauty and power, it was destructive and dangerous.

Ending the engagement was for the best. 

Tali would understand. 

She’d been his every, his reason to mature into a better man, into a good father, good enough to earn his daughter’s love and take back the years he’d missed. After seeing hell-fire surrounding Ziva’s home, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t really gone. There was no lingering emptiness of a broken bond. He held onto that for sanity, he held onto that Tali, ignoring his hurt and betrayal for so long he forgot those two feelings even existed. 

Once Ziva was back, he realized Tali’s life had been chaotic from one moment to the next. Even if they settled down in Paris and had friends and a new-found family, she needed to see normalcy between her parents. That was something neither of them had been quite able to nail, always making it worse with on-and-off flings and unspoken things between them dripping into their own personal relationships with their little girl. 

They had to do better somehow.

Time helped. 

Their conversations were better now, but still held back a lot of what they both wanted. The truth was hidden in hyperbole, in kisses when they both gave in to avoid hearing something that would destroy the other person, in half-confessions interrupted by a joke. At the end of it, they knew it wouldn’t work unless they both came clean — he had to come clean. Ziva had tried, but all the therapy in the world wouldn’t help them unless he let out all the things he’d fought hard to hide. 

Honesty, pesky little thing. 

The unsaid things crushed him sometimes, when he laid in bed at night dreaming of what could’ve been if they’d said yes at the altar, if he’d said something sooner…if he’d tried harder.  Anyone who truly knew him could tell that no matter what, Ziva was the one. 

They were done trying —  or so he thought —  until their little world turned into a mess again. Everyday on the run brought him closer, just like the old days…so close to her it was hard to breathe. His world spun whenever she was close, Ziva was magnetic and he’d never get out of her orbit. He didn’t want to, anyway.  

He had to swallow the pain of seeing the love of his life and pretending he didn't want her back but witnessing a wedding that might as well have been theirs reminded him of everything. The undeniable passion between them, the attraction that came back burning bright. He was lost to it the moment he opened the door and walked inside to kiss her on the boat, taking and savoring what he’d been dying without, thirsty for her body like a dying man.

In the back of his head, while dealing with pain and stress and the realization things were upside down, the kiss replayed itself. If he tried really hard, he could still smell the traces of Ziva's shampoo and trace the softness of her skin. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to, not right then.

But they would have to. If they wanted things to work — and not fall apart a few days before the big event — he had to surrender to the truth too. Admit everything, confess his sins, be open in order to heal. It’d be hard, admitting Ziva wasn’t the perfect creature he’d made her out to be, but he wasn’t either.

Maybe that was the point. They’d be happy being imperfect together or…he could avoid the hurt and go the simple route, fall back on what he knew. He’d tell Ziva what she needs to hear again, pledge his love, promise her goodness and kindness to make sure she’s okay and fuck — he couldn’t keep doing that. 

Would being honest about what he was truly feeling make a difference? 

As he watched Henry’s lifeless body drop to the ground while they rushed against time and thugs to save their little girl, he realized it would make all the difference in the world.

Chapter Text

Beyond being suspicious of therapists, Tony didn't see the point of their profession, conversations couldn't fix decades of pain. He’d tried once out of his own volition, then quickly shut down all of her attempts to deep dive into his childhood and work and trauma that he swore up and down didn’t exist. Unwilling to deal with all that, he'd left rattled, confused and vowing to never go back.

It helped Ziva and for that he would be eternally grateful to Dr. Lang, but going to the couple’s retreat, in his opinion, did more harm than good. He saw it as an attempt to strengthen their bond, but unnecessary at the end of the day. If he said what he truly thought, he’d upset Ziva and that was the last thing he wanted. 

People always keep things to themselves, things they’re afraid of being judged for or being laughed at. For him, it was difficult to maintain a balance between open communication and not causing Ziva more stress. She was — had been — dealing with too much. He had a tendency of saying too much, the wrong things, the wrong jokes at the worst possible moments, and the more he tried to mask his feelings with them, the more obvious it became when he was hurting. 

Maturing meant keeping those aside, finding a way to parent — without losing his fun side — amidst chaos and uncertainty. His only task had been keeping Tali safe and happy, while Ziva ran for her life, not knowing when she'd get to see his daughter again. Tony owed it to her to create a safe space without expectations or imposing the things he wanted or needed, it was the logical thing to do even if his own desires got thrown in the back of a van; asking for more was unfair. 

That wasn’t true. 

The failed wedding proved it. 

For months after the engagement ended, he'd racked his brain trying to pinpoint the reason why it failed, the moment they were doomed. Maybe it just wasn’t the right moment, he’d asked in the wrong way and triggered a curse around their relationship. Maybe it was truly better to not disrupt Tali’s life anymore than they already had, but then Tali would ask what happened, all serious and inquisitive at her young age, and he’d know that wasn’t the reason at all. 

No one of it made real sense in his head, no matter how much tossing and turning and crying he did at night. No amount of alcohol or late night music to mask his pain helped, no amount of ‘I’m sorry to hear that’ or ‘It’s probably for the best’ justified another loss in his book. 

Ziva would still be in his life and Tali’s, of course, but he wanted more. He wanted the things he’d denied himself for years — except the selfish moments when they’d both said fuck it and ran with it until someone else stumbled into either of their lives — and felt like he’d earned. 

He had, hadn’t he?  

They were each other’s life lines, he trusted Ziva with his life, always would, but the thing — whatever that meant — between them was shaky ground. It felt like that even at their strongest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his dreams would crumble, that the life he’d worked so hard to build and the hours searching frantically to prove Ziva was alive were all for nothing. 

In hindsight, he should've known that talking without any real meaning behind the words would be their undoing. Their issues, saying nothing or assuming the other already knew, had haunted them for years. The cycle repeated over and over, confusion clouding them until it was too late, forcing them into a weird limbo of being each other’s everything and nothing all at once.

The smallest of disagreements grew into something neither of them could ignore. He couldn't keep ignoring his needs for much longer; he wanted the big wedding, the bachelor party, Tali being the flower girl and seeing his family celebrating how he and Ziva had made it after all. Again, he wanted to be selfish, just for that, just the one day they both should be. 

Henry had known. 

He’d said it and Tony, as predicted, had chosen to ignore the can tumbling down the road. It rattled tumultuously as it went, full of their unresolved problems, warning them of what would come unless they opened it. Neither listened until it crashed, leaving heartbreak and disaster at the end. He deserved what happened, however painful it may have been. 

There were still things he had to learn before he could settle down and live happily ever after. 

Back in Paris, one conversation made him realize he couldn’t lose Ziva again. While she was gone, Tony had a moment to breathe — and to think and talk — after a bunch of eventful days, slowing down enough to process the kisses and the risk and what would come ahead for them.

It hadn’t been one of those long, soul-searching ones he was afraid of, Archie’s approach relaxed him. The irony of him being a child therapist wasn't lost on Tony, yet it worked, reaching far deeper over a sneaky chess game than introspective and breathing exercises on a couch ever did.

Tony stumbled through it but that wasn’t new, he’d shed tears over Ziva before, both good and bad. He’d felt the shortness of breath and exhilarating relief. They'd made sacrifices, far too many, just to feel each other’s touch. He’d been blessed with a daughter just as bright, wonderful and beautiful as her.

There had to be a moment where everything worked, the right combination of circumstances and variables, the right kind of words. Even though their world was upside down, he felt closer to Ziva than ever before: what she thought, what she wanted, how to work together to get out of traps or saying what they were thinking instead of avoiding the elephant in the room. 

He’d missed her, deeply, saying to Archie made it real. The thought had always been there, even if he didn’t share it, clear as day. The hole in his heart hadn't closed fully. What a surprise. There was a chance of losing each other if they couldn’t clear their names so he couldn’t keep ignoring what he was feeling.

On the run for their lives, there was one image that stuck in his mind, permanently branded in his brain: Ziva in a wedding dress. She was an angel straight out of heaven, his salvation leading him to paradise, just as beautiful as the day they’d met. He was tired of pretending he didn’t want to see her walking down the aisle, growing old together, raising Tali…it had been torture seeing what could've been. 

This time, he’d fix it. 

This time, he’d say it before it was too late.