10. Ensure that nothing you pack is irreplaceable.

Ziva sat in her car, wondering why she was having so much trouble deciding whether or not to go upstairs. Nothing had been discussed, but they had been home for nearly a week and she was getting tired of pretending everything was the same as ever. True, the first day had been spent recovering from jetlag, the second completing paperwork, but the third…was today. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. Perhaps she wasn't entirely over her jetlag if she thought three days was a long time.

He kept mentioning Jeanne. It was unsolicited, unexpected and…upsetting. She was having trouble understanding what it was that Paris had brought out for Tony. She couldn't shake the disturbing feeling that she had been serving as a stand-in for someone else, someone he would have preferred to see Paris with. Why had she driven here? And why had she brought a bottle of the wine like the one they had shared at dinner that had taken trips to three different stores to find?

Without raising her head, she reached for her ringing phone and answered it dejectedly, "David."

"You just gonna sit out here all night?"

"Tony?"

"Look up and across the street." He smiled and waved from his own car. "How long have you been there?"

If the cold in the car was an indication, the answer was quite a while. "I don't know."

"So, long enough to miss me stopping by your place and coming home when you weren't there?"

She shook her head. "Perhaps one of us should have picked up the phone prior to this moment."

"And miss all this endearing awkwardness?" He jogged across the street and yanked her door open as he hung up the phone. "Wanna go upstairs?"

"I suppose."

"I have wine…" He held up a familiar looking bottle. "Five stores to find this stuff!"

She held up her bottle with a smile. "Three."

"Place on K Street?"

"1200 block of 21st."

"So we've got two places to get the wine. Now all we need is duck."

"I am not sure that drinking is what we need to do right now."

"Might make talking easier." Sitting on his sofa five minutes later with a glass of wine apiece, the words refused to flow. "So…"

"This is not bad on its own."

"No. It's good. Good wine. Want to order Chinese?"

"Sure."

"Duck?"

She smiled sadly. "Sounds good."

They were eating and still drinking half an hour later when he said. "You didn't come here just to drink and eat duck, did you?"

She took a long sip as she realized this conversation was limited. "Could we…"

He pushed his plate away, a surprise in and of itself. "I'm kind of out of practice with talking. I haven't really…not since Jeanne…"

"Please stop mentioning her."

"Sorry, I just…"

"I know what you said. It does not make it hurt less. How would you feel if I started bringing up…" She swallowed hard. "If I started bringing up Michael every few minutes?"

"Uh, not…good." He grabbed the second bottle from the coffee table and refilled their glasses. "I…I can make an effort to, uh, not do that anymore. I just…I keep trying to avoid making mistakes and all I can think about is the biggest one I ever made."

She drew away from him, toward the arm of the sofa. "She is still in Gabon."

"What?"

"Jeanne. If she is the one you want, she is still in Gabon. I checked."

"When?"

"Today."

"Why? Why would you…?"

"I wanted to know. And I thought you would be interested."

"I…I'm an idiot." She condensed herself into as small a space as possible as he moved closer. "Don't fall all over yourself disagreeing with me."

She set her wineglass on the table. "I like you as an idiot. Not too much, but in small doses. It makes you give that extra effort that makes you wonderful."

"So I'm wonderfully idiotic?" He brushed her hair behind her ear as he leaned in. "I don't want Jeanne, you know. I want someone who knows that I'm an unapologetic jerk who doesn't want to move into some ugly bungalow. I just…I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not and you…you know me." His breath was warm on her ear. "And you still haven't shot me, so…"

Ziva opened her eyes, thinking for a moment that she was waking up in Paris again. This seemed too personal for a hotel room, though. She rolled over and encountered a warm body. Tony grunted in his sleep and shifted slightly before settling down again. She snuggled closer. "We need to work on talking."

He snored in response. The clock indicated that she had plenty of time to surprise him with breakfast.

Maybe they wouldn't have to talk. Not too much anyway.

The End