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Tired of Pretending

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She's sitting on her couch, reading a book, trying to ignore the feeling that is lodged in her heart. She won't admit it, but he had hurt her today. She's hurt on the inside and out, it was strange. She's never felt both at the same time. Suddenly, she hears the lock click, and she knows it's him. She has no idea what he's doing here, because she specifically told him she doesn't want to talk about today. Looks like he changed his mind. The front door gets shut close and she hears the deadbolt lock. His keys get dropped, shoes being taken off. His suit jacket. And then he starts walking towards her. His footsteps sound closer and closer, until he's standing right in front of her. She still ignores him and keeps on reading.

"Zee-vah..." Still ignoring him. He starts tapping his foot and she knows he's getting impatient.

"Ziva."

"Damnit, Ziva, look at me!" he says and suddenly her book is out of her hands and through the air. She stands up with such force, he takes a step back.

"What, Tony?!" she says and he smiles, because she's at least talking to him.

"I'm sorry about the elevator thing. There's no excuse for how I hurt you and I'm sorry. You don't have to forgive me, but—."

"What did you mean, Tony? When you said you were tired of pretending?" she asks softly, interrupting him, because she's already forgiven him.

"I'm tired of pretending... I'm tired of pretending your miscarriage meant nothing to me, to us." This time, unlike in the elevator, she can't control the tears that are threatening to fall. A tear escapes and trails down her face, then another one and then another one, until she's silently crying. He takes her in his arms, regardless of her desperate want to just run away. She sobs into his chest as he strokes her hair and rubs lazy circles on the small of her back.

"I'm sorry Tony," she says, so softly that he thinks it's his imagination, until she looks up at him, waiting for her reply.

"About what?"

"About the baby." He closes his eyes and sighs, pulling her even closer to him.

"Oh, Zee, it's not your fault, so don't apologize." He gently rocks her a bit until her tears subside and she calms down. He presses a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you, Ziva."

"I love you too, Tony." She sniffs. He lifts her up and, not surprisingly, she protests, but he ignores her pleas and lies down on the couch with her still in his arms. She lays her head on his shoulder and sighs.

"What?" he whispers into her ear. She takes a deep, yet wavering, breath.

"I spoke to my father today, when I got home," she says, and he knows she's holding back and he knows he's gonna have to push for more information.

"And?"

"He was still so excited about having a grandchild, I... I could not tell him I miscarried." She's crying again and his heart breaks. He feels the sobs whack through her body as she shakes with each weep on top of him. He doesn't know what to do, because he hasn't been in this position before, let alone with her. He's only seen her cry a handful of times, but never about something like this and he discerns that this is much more serious than any of the other times.

"Oh, sweethe—." He doesn't get any further, because she looks up at him and he stops. He knows that looks. She doesn't like it when he calls her sweet names like 'sweetheart' and 'honey'.

"Zee." That's what he calls her, instead of all those 'fruity' names, as she calls them.

He pulls her up, so her face is parallel with his and he gives her a soft kiss.

"I love you. And if you want, I'll talk to your father," he offers and she smiles, despite her tears.

"Please, do not. I will handle it. And I love you too, Tony," she says. They stay like that for God knows how long. They just lie together, feeling the other's heart beat, feel their presence. And slowly, contently they fall into a deep slumber, another hard day washed away with all their worries. And the obstacles? The obstacles they would battle tomorrow. Now, they are content with just sleeping there, together, until a new day comes.