Title: Her Hand in His

Spoilers: "Truth or Consequences"

Summary: Ziva had given up entirely, but is jarred from her defeat by the simplest action. Tag to the end of ToC.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: ToC on USA Network means I dwell on Tiva...actually, that's just my perpetual state of mind, but it certainly means I dwell on Season 7 Tiva. I never noticed that during 90% of the walk out of the camp, Tony is holding Ziva's hand. Not in a stabilizing way, but in a "my-whole-hand-is-covering-your-whole-hand-for-longer-than-necessary" kind of way. It's legit. Watch it. Then read this...because that's pretty much what I did to write it.

Also, a lot of this is based off Ziva's line in "Good Cop, Bad Cop" (*spoiler ahead*), that she "did not mean to live through it" and I don't think that kind of feeling would wear off as soon as she saw Saleem dead on the floor. So, this was bourne out of that statement and her general demeanor at the end of ToC.

Her Hand in His

When he asks her if she can fight, she looks up at him with defeated eyes and he knows. She doesn't manage to speak the words, but he can see it written all over her face. He's always been able to read her, his favorite book. She cannot fight. Will not. She has given up already. His heart almost stops at the thought. They had managed to break her down so deeply that they'd taken the fire behind her eyes and smothered it, leaving only smoke. A faint reminder of what once was.

When the door opens, he is resolute. If she cannot fight, he will fight for her.

And he does—unwaveringly—but once Saleem is lying in a heap on the floor next to her feet, she just looks more lost. McGee unbinds him, but Ziva does not move. She just stares at the body on the floor in shock as if the scene has not fully registered for her.

McGee cuts her free as well, but Ziva's arms simply fall to her sides and her eyebrows knit together in confusion. She doesn't know how to feel. This was not how she had expected it to end. Tony rushes the space between them and lifts her up, brushing the hair from her face and pulling her arm around his shoulders. Even if he has to carry her out of here, she's coming with him. He won't chance losing her again.

McGee flanks her other side and they begin to move. Her feet drag at first, unsure of whether to go or stay, but when he reaches up and takes her hand in his, they fall into step.

That touch, that contact, is all she needs to remember who she is. She squeezes back as strongly as she can muster and he doesn't let go. She doesn't look at him and doesn't acknowledge that the only thing propelling her out of this place is her hand in his. She had given up on herself days, weeks, months ago and the last few hours felt like the same agonizing hallucination that replayed itself in her mind during every waking moment of that time.

Until now. When his warm, rough palm covered hers, she knew she wasn't dreaming. She had never imagined that Tony would ever touch her like this again-with such comfort, such possession, such compassion. The touch-a sense that had so recently become synonymous with danger-was the last barrier between herself and her circumstances. When she feels it, it sets her whole body aflame. It awakens her from the nightmare she had only expected would find its close in death. And in a way, it does. The part of her that would deny this—this spark between them—will die in that rickety wooden chair alongside Saleem's still-warm body. And much like Saleem, she will not mourn its passing.

Instead, when she finally takes her seat on the plane next to Tony, she slips her hand into his so blatantly that she feels Gibbs' eyes burning a hole through them. She responds by resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. As she drifts into a temporarily fitful sleep, she thinks that nothing could possibly harm her here—not Saleem, not Rule 12, not her father—not when her hand is in his.

The End.

A/N 2: Feedback/reviews are greatly appreciated! 3