Conditions
Sep. 14th, 2006 07:19 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
nikkinor.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ncisficathonTitle: Conditions
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nikkinor
Written for:shellyk
Archive: Sure, just tell me.
Rating: K+
Warnings/Spoilers: A missing scene to Sliver War.
Genre: (out of Gen/Het/Slash) Het.
Pairings: A little McGee/Ziva
Word Count: 1,127
Disclaimer: I do not own anything and am not getting paid
Prompt: McGee/Ziva -- Late night at the office, getting to know each other.
Summary: “He’s new to the art of reading peoples eyes, but somehow he seems to find a minute glimmer of pleasure deep down in those shady brown eyes.”
Author's Note: Huge thanks to Dreamer20715 for doing a very fast beta for me.
----------------
He misses her.
He’d only known her for a year and a half; but it still hurt to hear her go down, still hurt to see her in a body cooler in autopsy, still hurt when he had to leave a rose on casket. Why the nicest people in the world died would always remain a mystery to him. She was so loving towards him, so compassionate.
Her face had haunted him for weeks now, following him into his sleep and disturbing him in his slumber. The dark shadows of the world kept frightening him and he doesn’t think they’ll ever stop. Deaths caused by bullet wounds between the eyes would scare him forever, and rich intoxicating laughs would always remind him of a brunette with deep brown eyes.
He’s just standing at her desk tonight, tracing the elaborate pattern of the wood with his eyes. He does this almost every night; stands at her desk and tries to remember what she looked like when she was working. He sees her smile at him and laugh just a little, in broken and fragile memories that blur at the edges and splinter through the middle.
It’s all he has left of her.
“McGee?”
His head snaps up in response, his delicate and faint memories disappearing into the back of his mind. He knew that voice even before he looked up. The deep tone, the rich accent, and words just slightly broken by the knowledge of her native language.
“Hi, Ziva.”
He tried not to, but his voice cracks just a little as he says her name. He’s known her for less than a week, but he can still tell she’s a strong person when it comes to emotions, and he doesn’t want her to see him so weak.
She slowly reaches her hand out to him with the clothes he’d given her earlier that day. “I wanted to make sure you got these back.” She smiles at him and offers him the garments.
He takes them from her hand, gently tucking them under his arm.
“Thank you, McGee. It was very kind of you to give me your clothes.”
“No problem, Ziva.” He tries to smile, but he can tell that she notices the forced happiness; he can tell by the way she’s looking at him that she knows something is wrong.
But even though she knows there’s something lying behind those green eyes, something painful and somehow familiar to her, she still turns to walk away. A murmured goodbye and swift turn on her heels, and she’s almost gone for the night and he’s almost alone with his soft reminiscences.
But as hard as she tries, she can’t leave him here all by himself. She can almost feel his heartache and some part of her deep down in her soul wants to help him and make that pain go away. She knows exactly how he feels; she knows just how bad the pain of loss is when it’s fresh and cruel.
And she just can’t leave him alone.
She turns back to him slowly, looking at him kindly and trying to convey some sort of genuine sympathy, “Are you alright, Tim?” She’d learned many years ago that using a persons given name when talking to them gave them a sort of connection to you.
He takes a deep breath, holding back the emotions and keeping his voice steady this time. “Just thinkin’ about someone.”
She thinks again about leaving. He was hesitant to talk to her and the last thing she wanted to do is push him away. But there’s still that part of her that’s profiling him even now, the part of her that knows he’s talking about Agent Todd.
“Kate?”
He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, especially about Kate. He just wants to sit alone and try to save what few memories he had of her, just take a little time to grieve. He turns away from her, retreating to his own desk so he can put down the light clothes under his arms.
“I’m sorry Tim. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
He looks to her for more. He wants her to say that you eventually get over it, that one day he’ll wake up and he won’t remember the woman that smiled brighter than the sun with arms that were never afraid to hold you when you needed it.
He wants her to tell that him the throbbing in his heart goes away.
“Her name was Tali and she was my little sister.” She stops because it still hurts to talk about her. “It took me months before I could cry over her and years before I could say her name again. But in time I moved past it and saw how it made me a better person, and in time so will you.”
They fall into a sweet trance of silence; with the occasional glance at the other and thoughts of the ones they had lost. She, trying to remember the silky feel of her sister’s hair as she braided it as a child, and he trying not to lose how it felt when his partner put her trust in him.
After a forever of hush he finds his voice. “You deserve a desk.”
Her eyes find their way to the clean desk with neatly arranged items and a bit of dust from the weeks of vacancy.
“I think she’d be proud to know that you’d be using it.”
He’s new to the art of reading people’s eyes, but somehow he seems to find a minute glimmer of pleasure deep down in those shady brown eyes.
He walks by her towards the elevator and steals one more longing glance at the empty seat; and she slowly runs her hand around the edge of the desk with a reverent touch of her fingers and a small smile playing on her lips. She carefully inches her way to the chair and sits down as her fingers follow the grain of the wood.
He stops a few feet from the elevator and his voice doesn’t hide the hurt this time, cause he just has to know. “Do you ever forget?”
She could lie, she could tell him after a few years he’ll stop thinking about her and her name will just slip from his mind as the memories he has of her die away. She’d lied a million times before this, and one more lie added to the group wouldn’t hurt; but for some reason, unknown to her, she can’t look him in the eye and fake a story with a pleasing ending.
So she looks him in the eye and tells him the truth.
“Never.”
Author:
nikkinorWritten for:
shellykArchive: Sure, just tell me.
Rating: K+
Warnings/Spoilers: A missing scene to Sliver War.
Genre: (out of Gen/Het/Slash) Het.
Pairings: A little McGee/Ziva
Word Count: 1,127
Disclaimer: I do not own anything and am not getting paid
Prompt: McGee/Ziva -- Late night at the office, getting to know each other.
Summary: “He’s new to the art of reading peoples eyes, but somehow he seems to find a minute glimmer of pleasure deep down in those shady brown eyes.”
Author's Note: Huge thanks to Dreamer20715 for doing a very fast beta for me.
----------------
He misses her.
He’d only known her for a year and a half; but it still hurt to hear her go down, still hurt to see her in a body cooler in autopsy, still hurt when he had to leave a rose on casket. Why the nicest people in the world died would always remain a mystery to him. She was so loving towards him, so compassionate.
Her face had haunted him for weeks now, following him into his sleep and disturbing him in his slumber. The dark shadows of the world kept frightening him and he doesn’t think they’ll ever stop. Deaths caused by bullet wounds between the eyes would scare him forever, and rich intoxicating laughs would always remind him of a brunette with deep brown eyes.
He’s just standing at her desk tonight, tracing the elaborate pattern of the wood with his eyes. He does this almost every night; stands at her desk and tries to remember what she looked like when she was working. He sees her smile at him and laugh just a little, in broken and fragile memories that blur at the edges and splinter through the middle.
It’s all he has left of her.
“McGee?”
His head snaps up in response, his delicate and faint memories disappearing into the back of his mind. He knew that voice even before he looked up. The deep tone, the rich accent, and words just slightly broken by the knowledge of her native language.
“Hi, Ziva.”
He tried not to, but his voice cracks just a little as he says her name. He’s known her for less than a week, but he can still tell she’s a strong person when it comes to emotions, and he doesn’t want her to see him so weak.
She slowly reaches her hand out to him with the clothes he’d given her earlier that day. “I wanted to make sure you got these back.” She smiles at him and offers him the garments.
He takes them from her hand, gently tucking them under his arm.
“Thank you, McGee. It was very kind of you to give me your clothes.”
“No problem, Ziva.” He tries to smile, but he can tell that she notices the forced happiness; he can tell by the way she’s looking at him that she knows something is wrong.
But even though she knows there’s something lying behind those green eyes, something painful and somehow familiar to her, she still turns to walk away. A murmured goodbye and swift turn on her heels, and she’s almost gone for the night and he’s almost alone with his soft reminiscences.
But as hard as she tries, she can’t leave him here all by himself. She can almost feel his heartache and some part of her deep down in her soul wants to help him and make that pain go away. She knows exactly how he feels; she knows just how bad the pain of loss is when it’s fresh and cruel.
And she just can’t leave him alone.
She turns back to him slowly, looking at him kindly and trying to convey some sort of genuine sympathy, “Are you alright, Tim?” She’d learned many years ago that using a persons given name when talking to them gave them a sort of connection to you.
He takes a deep breath, holding back the emotions and keeping his voice steady this time. “Just thinkin’ about someone.”
She thinks again about leaving. He was hesitant to talk to her and the last thing she wanted to do is push him away. But there’s still that part of her that’s profiling him even now, the part of her that knows he’s talking about Agent Todd.
“Kate?”
He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, especially about Kate. He just wants to sit alone and try to save what few memories he had of her, just take a little time to grieve. He turns away from her, retreating to his own desk so he can put down the light clothes under his arms.
“I’m sorry Tim. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
He looks to her for more. He wants her to say that you eventually get over it, that one day he’ll wake up and he won’t remember the woman that smiled brighter than the sun with arms that were never afraid to hold you when you needed it.
He wants her to tell that him the throbbing in his heart goes away.
“Her name was Tali and she was my little sister.” She stops because it still hurts to talk about her. “It took me months before I could cry over her and years before I could say her name again. But in time I moved past it and saw how it made me a better person, and in time so will you.”
They fall into a sweet trance of silence; with the occasional glance at the other and thoughts of the ones they had lost. She, trying to remember the silky feel of her sister’s hair as she braided it as a child, and he trying not to lose how it felt when his partner put her trust in him.
After a forever of hush he finds his voice. “You deserve a desk.”
Her eyes find their way to the clean desk with neatly arranged items and a bit of dust from the weeks of vacancy.
“I think she’d be proud to know that you’d be using it.”
He’s new to the art of reading people’s eyes, but somehow he seems to find a minute glimmer of pleasure deep down in those shady brown eyes.
He walks by her towards the elevator and steals one more longing glance at the empty seat; and she slowly runs her hand around the edge of the desk with a reverent touch of her fingers and a small smile playing on her lips. She carefully inches her way to the chair and sits down as her fingers follow the grain of the wood.
He stops a few feet from the elevator and his voice doesn’t hide the hurt this time, cause he just has to know. “Do you ever forget?”
She could lie, she could tell him after a few years he’ll stop thinking about her and her name will just slip from his mind as the memories he has of her die away. She’d lied a million times before this, and one more lie added to the group wouldn’t hurt; but for some reason, unknown to her, she can’t look him in the eye and fake a story with a pleasing ending.
So she looks him in the eye and tells him the truth.
“Never.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}