Stop Running

By Caz

Disclaimer in force, so leave me, you brutes!

Rated K

I am one lucky guy to be sat in just about the best seat in the house. Far enough away so that the boss man can't see everything that I'm doing. Or not doing, as the case may be. Usually be.

Mr McGeek doesn't count. I can do what ever I like here and bluff my way out of it. If I'm really lucky I can outdo him with a result. Doesn't happen often, but often enough to keep both him and the boss man off my back.

And there, right opposite me, is Ziva David. I lounge back in my seat with a deliberate look of consentration on my face, just enough to make me look busy enough to not earn a bellow from the boss, or worse still, that God damn slap around the back of my head, which, if I'm honest, I bloody hate.

But I love it when I do good and he actually pats my head instead of whacking it one. Those times are few and far between, but cherished, none the less.

But back to the woman opposite me. Ziva. Ex Mossad. Killer of many, lover of none. Well, there was one, but I was the one who happened to kill him. It was him or me, so there was no contest. It took a while for Ziva to forgive me, but I knew she would. Eventually.

It was seeing her torn up about the loss of Mikel, and her fury at me, that I finally began to see her in a different light. It suddenly became all important to me to see the real Ziva, the Ziva that nobody else saw. I'd glimpsed a rare moment of weakness in that tough, no nonsense shell of hers, but it had been just enough to peep inside and discover that I liked what I saw.

That I would always cover her ass was a given. She was my partner, and my friend, eventually. And despite what had happened, I knew I could rely on her being on my side when the going got tough. As would McGee and Gibbs. Especially Gibbs.

I nonchalantly stuck a pencil between my teeth and continued to furtively watch her from across the bullpen, and every so often she would glance my way and throw me 'that' look, the one that silently said, 'Is that all you've got to do?' as she hammered away at her keyboard, silently getting pissed at it when it didn't do what she wanted it to do - which was often. The woman was 'not' a computer nerd, unlike the other member of our team.

Gallantly, with the pencil still stuck between my teeth, I ask her, "Need a hand with that?" If only as she shakes her head at me without even bothering to look up. A pity as I like nothing better than hovering over her shoulder, allowing those rare few moments to inhale her unique scent. It wasn't perfume, just deodorant and her own feminine aroma that one more than one occasion I was glad that I was bending over at the waist valiantly hiding what that aroma of hers was doing to me.

I think she would be shocked if she knew what she did to me. Hell, she would probably shoot me, after she'd beaten me to a pulp! But I'd take it like a man, and if I'm honest, I would probably enjoy a good smacking again from her. The last time she'd whalloped me into submission had been in Israel. It had been then that I'd seen a glimpse of the 'real' Ziva David. It had also been then that I'd decided that the first chance I got, I was going to try my luck at courting her.

But I know it's going to take a monumental amount of patience on my part to wait her out. I've got to wear her defences down. I've got to make her see that beneath the goofball that I am, there is a sensitive guy dying to belong in her heart. And I will be there, one day, I hope.

But until then, Ziva has got to stop running away, and I know that she is. I've seen her look at me when she thinks that I can't see her. I see more than friendship sometimes, especially when something gets at me personally, and it's always her that props me up, gee's me on, gets me back to rationality. Sometimes she touches me and I melt. And sometimes she looks deep into my eyes, and I see what I want to see.

I see us, together someday. I see her coming towards me with her arms and her heart wide open, willing me on to fill both. And one day, I will, but I've got to wait for her. I've got to wait for Ziva to stop running away from me.

Please, Zee, stop running.