“I know it’s not the same, but I thought that maybe if you closed your eyes, it’d be like if you were at the opera. And maybe even like Tali’s there with you.”
God, I love this scene, perhaps even more so because there is so little actual dialogue in it.
What I love the most about it is two-fold: First, that Tony brought the opera to Ziva when she couldn’t get there herself, knowing how important this tradition was to her. Ziva is obviously floored the second the opening notes come through the stereo, and is overwhelmed at his thoughtfulness. It seems this sharing things isn’t so bad after all with friends like this.
And second, that he realizes it’s something she needs to do in solitude, even when they do almost everything else together. That for all his prodding and getting her to open up, that very connection is why he knows that for this, she needs to be alone. Not because she’s angry or annoyed, but simply because it’s when she feels the closest to her sister, and it’s a private moment between just the two of them.
It’s just so beautiful; both because it reinforces how strong Tony and Ziva’s bond is, but also because it’s one of those rare moments where Ziva is unreservedly allowed to indulge in her emotions. She’s so used to remaining stoic, and though we often see the chinks in her armor, this is one of those quiet times where she’s just allowed to be. She’s a girl who lost her sister, but for a few minutes, here, she can remember her and be by her side. (Again, it’s another building block to what happens later on in the series.)