A/N: And here it is. The final chapter. Chapter 30, finally done to the point where I am sick of it and don't even know what else to do with it. It takes place the evening of last chapter's morning scene. The pressure on me to get this right is enormous but I hope I rose adequately to the challenge.

Cheers, then…
X

XXX. Game Plan

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I somehow find
You and I collide

- Howie Day, "Collide"

It's a little before midnight later the same evening, the sky inky black outside of Tony's window.

The night is windy, the rushes of air rattling and shaking and disturbing everything in sight, banging against the building like a persistent intruder. Usually by now, they have finished their first round of sex and it's silent, so they listen to the intimate sounds of the other's breathing, curled up together, unwilling to let go of the warmth.

But it's a windy night tonight and although Ziva's hand lays on Tony's palm, she is farther away from him, her head turned towards the window instead of his face, her hair erratic against the glowing milky-white of the pillow behind her. He cannot even hear her breathe; he must rely on the up and down motions of her chest to remind him of her humanity.

Clearly, she is tender tonight.

He doesn't dare scoot any closer to her – he doesn't want to scare her off – but he strokes her hand with his thumb, trying to ease the tension obvious in her fingers. But she doesn't subside.

In fact, she is thinking about this morning, and kicking herself for letting him hook that damn bra.

She's not sure why she's so upset that he saw the scar. It's not as if he hasn't seen her naked before, because he has. It's not as if he doesn't know she has scars, because he does. And it's not as if he even saw a particularly nasty one, because he didn't. But still, he was disturbed by the little thing this morning and she is disturbed by the fact that he is disturbed at all.

Because if this is how he reacts to a little circle in her mid-back, she can't imagine how he would react to the more serious things she hides from him.

For perhaps the millionth time since this relationship intensified, Ziva finds herself questioning Tony's viability as a boyfriend. As a fling, he would be perfect – funny, good-looking, easy to tease. As anything else, she has never been sure. He has given her indications that he is serious – many, in fact, over the course of five years – and yet, the 'but's' never stop intruding upon her thoughts. It seems that every good thing he does for her is tainted with a doubt she has in him. And he deserves better than that, really, though she might as well admit to herself that she would knife all of his subsequent girlfriends if he ever did move on from her.

She wants him around but she cannot keep him. It's the worst kind of dilemma and she ends up here all the time, faltering and giving in and faltering again, again, again.

But she has been in destructive cycles for too long to indulge this one any longer: she needs to make a decision that will stick, that will remain anchored when the rest of her is in the clouds. And tonight, raw and windy, seems as good a night as any to decide.

Ziva now chooses to turn and look at Tony, but his eyes are on the ceiling and she wonders what he's thinking about, with his eyes so faraway like that. She almost asks, then realizes she doesn't want to know – but she does want his attention again. She wants to remember who she is breaking all her personal laws for, as if he hasn't already given her enough hints as it is.

In the space of half a second, her idle hand has taken Tony's, squeezing it tightly, her fingers woven between his in a way that is kind of sweet, kind of unlike her. So of course Tony turns to look at her too and is met with her kiss, delicate and probing on his mouth in a way that makes him suspicious.

He breaks the kiss and practically bores his irises into hers, staring at the tissue that makes up her brown eyes as though it will tell him something – and it does, because involuntarily, her pupils dilate and he knows that it's fear and doubt and all those things he had been trying to fight out of her brewing in a way that threatens to overwhelm her.

And she, in trying to read why he's staring at her so intensely, sees his pupils stay exactly the same – because scared as he is, he has wracked his brains all day trying to figure out what to do with someone like her and he has come to the solid conclusion that commitment-phobe or not, he's the emotionally brave one between them and it's up to him to continue showing her that it's okay to love him, to let him love her in return.

He has to be hopeful enough for both of them because she needs him to prove her wrong to begin healing those scars of hers – and he needs her to keep him responsible, on his toes, committed to her in a way he's never trusted himself to be. That's the truth at the bottom of it.

So, with all of this in mind, Tony feels compelled to open his mouth and inform her over the windy din outside, "I don't know what we are doing here."

As expected, she looks at him strangely, wrinkling her nose with confusion.

He explains, "I say that because you and I are the kind of people who like concrete answers to complicated questions that involve risk. We've had histories of failed relationships and even with this one, we have a variety of excellent reasons not to work out. We don't know what we are doing here – we can't predict it with any certainty. But if you want, we can try to stop questioning everything and be honest with ourselves and take this day by day. Just…I don't know, trust that it'll work itself out if we stick around long enough."

It takes Ziva a significant amount of effort to swallow down the egg-sized lump now forming in her throat. They listen quietly to the howling wind for several seconds before she has an answer.

"That sounds noble enough right now," she says, "but it just delays the inevitable. This has to end somewhere." Echoing her thoughts from the shooting on the train and the murder of Robert Hanson, she asks, "What if we get married? What if I get pregnant? What if one of us dies? What if we grow tired of each other and break up? What if we lose our jobs to this relationship? Where do you see this going, Tony?" Her voice breaks a little at the end, on his name.

And all Tony can do is shrug helplessly.

"I don't know," he tells her, "and that's my point – that we just have to keep trying and hope for the best. Because, I mean, I can't not be with you, so the only other option is…being with you, whatever that means for however long it is."

She purses her lips, deeply uncomfortable.

So they are both in the same place, trying to make a final decision on how to move forward. But he, unlike her, has enough faith in them to go against his impulse for control and let their relationship ride the winds that could be as cruel to them as the ones outside. She has never understood his faith but seeing it displayed so honestly, unflinchingly, before her changes her, makes her want to follow him and mimic him and believe in them too. Even though she does, of course, have instincts that warn against it.

The egg-sized lump in her throat mutates to the size of a grapefruit and Ziva swallows again, feeling violated somehow, as though the last reason she had not to fall for him – fear of him leaving her – has been peeled away from her, leaving her exposed and trembling without any kind of consolation. But when she meets Tony's eyes again, she finds they are smoldering like a three-layer hazel cake melting into lumpy goop on the oven floor, waiting for her to realize that he's right.

She bites down hard on her lower lip – body language Tony knows to indicate anxiety. And he understands, he knows how hard this is for her, because it's hard for him too. But she's been an excellent field partner so far and despite everything, they have as good a shot as anyone. They really do.

So he leans in without thinking and his kiss oozes surrender. But as she deepens it in her own surrender, she mumbles against his lips tentatively, a little brokenly, "I love you."

Nothing and no one order her to say it, but she does anyway – and even though it's the second time she's said it, he pretends it's the first and his insides flutter.

Her kiss becomes confirmation, then, of this lumbering-but-hopeful game plan he has laid out for them. A decision at last. Clumsy as they tend to be in matters of the heart, they can agree that whatever it is, it is worth the effort. And when it makes them feel this complete, flourishing, and wonderful, you have to blunder forward against all logic, all reason, endgame be damned.

You just have to. And you hope and run and you leap-frog over the odds together because that's what you do, isn't it? That's what you do when you're in love.

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
And out of the doubt that fills your mind
You finally find
you and I collide

You finally find
you and I collide

- Howie Day, "Collide"

A/N: Right. So, you guys won't know this, but I have this traditional end-of-story speech I do every time I finish a long project, just as a way to kind of clinch the crazy. Here it goes…-throatclear-

Now, as you know quite well (because I've been reminding you every step of the way) this story was never supposed to happen. Innocently, I wrote a one-shot – enjoyed writing it too – and posted it, thinking maybe a couple of people would review and I'd be happy that I'd done something out of my comfort zone.

But, clearly, things didn't go according to that plan.

I was blown away by the fact that so many people reviewed and favorited and got excited, wanted me to continue. I cannot emphasize enough my astonishment that my writing style was not only applicable, but seemingly well-suited, for the task at hand – that there were people in the world who actually looked forward to reading what I had to say. So, as you know, I listened to you and continued. But even then, who could have predicted Kaleidoscope Heart, my little experiment, would reach the robust 70k+ words it is now? I certainly hadn't.

It's been quite a journey to get here. It's been frustrating and wonderful and mind-blowing, but I've loved every frustrating, wonderful, mind-blowing second of it and I thank you from the bottom of the black hole that is my heart for your readership.

I will continue to write NCIS – and Tiva – so watch out for me. I've already got a small militia of one-shot ideas for my muse to chew on and play with, and I can't wait to try out some different stuff. It'll be fun.

Thanks again.

Much love,
Zay