Wrong Number

Chapter One

The autumn night was crisp and cloudy, with only several rays of moonlight illuminating the dead leaf filled street. Cool breezes whisked leaves into the air creating a vortex of reds, browns, yellows, and oranges that flew in the air around the couple walking down the street. The woman's dark brown curls flew around her hair, momentarily obscuring her vision as it covered her hazel eyes. She laughed and pushed the fly-away strands away from her face as she continued to smile at the man walking beside her. He was handsome and young with close cropped black hair. Both wore matching smiles of ignorant, blissful, happiness.

"I have to send someone a message," the woman said in an unidentifiable accent as she drew her small black cell phone out from her purse. She had an iPhone, as did so many other people in the world. Her fingers swiftly typed out the message and then she clicked 'send' before dropping her phone back into her purse. She smiled up at the man she was walking with as her hand slipped into his and she gently pressed her lips to his cheek.

"I'm so glad we get to spend this time together, away from the base," he said as he put an arm around the dark haired woman and pulled her close. They continued walking, only slightly more slowly than before, down the street and their footsteps, muffled by leaves, was the only sound aside from the wind.

"Me too," she said and her lips held a delighted smile. Her hazel eyes twinkled in the moonlight as the headlights of a car swung around the corner and glared right at the two of them. Neither person seemed to care that the people in the car could see them as the man leaned down to press his lips against hers. Oblivious to the world neither saw the gun be drawn and only when it was too late did they realize the shot had even been fired. As the man slumped to the ground, blood spilling from the hole in his head, the woman took off running. Even in heels she was fast and there was cat-like grace in the way she moved. Dark curls streamed behind her, flapping like a flag in the wind, as she tore across someone's lawn and hopped the fence. After the shot had been fired something in the woman's very posture had changed to become straighter and trained. Her movements had been quick and efficient, obviously like she had hopped many fences in the past. And, never once, had she looked back at the man lying on the sidewalk, dead.

Someone inside the car swore as they hid the gun and drove off in search of the woman. Whatever they had said had most definitely not been in English.

Ziva sat behind her desk working diligently to finish up last week's paperwork before anyone else arrived that morning. She had come in close to five in the morning after she had woken up and remembered the paperwork had to be completed and turned in later that same morning. Already she was on her third cup of coffee and was beginning to wonder how much longer she had till she became as protective of her coffee as Gibbs was. Dark circles accented her deep brown eyes and everything about her looked tired. Her shoulders sagged, her hair was slightly disheveled, and she'd forgotten to put on make-up that morning. All this paperwork was really driving her crazy.

"Morning Zee-vah," Tony said, not really looking at her as he walked to his own desk and set down his things. After everything he had brought with him was put away he looked up at his college, smiling. Once he saw her exhausted sleep deprived face he winced, causing her to glance up at him. "You look awful," he pointed out.

"Is this your new strategy on how to pick up women, Tony?" Ziva asked tiredly in a slightly annoyed tone as she brushed several flyaway strands of hair back behind her ear. "Because I honestly do not see the angle."

"No, you just look awful," Tony said bluntly. "Did you even brush your hair this morning?"

"I just didn't straighten it," Ziva sighed as she brushed more of her wild curls out of her face and then finally pulled it all back into a ponytail. She sighed and went back to her paperwork as Tony logged onto his computer. As she continued working Tony looked up several times to see if Ziva really looked that tired. He had missed seeing her hairy curly, even if it was pulled back into a ponytail. Personally, he'd always found her more beautiful when she left her hair dark and very curly. With it lightened and straightened it made her seem too much like the woman who had gone out with CI-Ray, kissed Ray, loved Ray. Tony thought that he was actually going to throw a party when he heard the "sad" news of Ziva an Ray's break up.

"Something wrong?" Tony asked. Even after her and Ray's break-up, Ziva had always looked normal and like she was taking care of herself. She had never struck Tony as type of girl who would let herself fall apart after a break up. And her and Ray had broken up several weeks ago so it wouldn't make since for Ziva to fall apart now.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" Ziva countered as her phone started to vibrate on her desk. She ignored it and continued working on the paperwork she desperately needed to finish as soon as possible. Tony was slightly taken aback by the question, he had no idea that she had been looking at him. She hadn't even looked up at him when she said it as she furiously typed away at her keyboard.

"I don't keep looking at you," Tony lied.

"Yes you do," Ziva argued as she continued typing.

"Do to," Tony said.

"You are being childish Tony," Ziva accused him with a sigh as she continued doing paperwork and doing her best to ignore Tony. She was busy and he was being rather annoying this morning.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Tony joked. This time Ziva looked up at him, a confused expression moving her features. Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked upwards slightly as she thought, trying to understand what Tony meant. American idioms and expressions had never been her forte per se.

"The left side of the bed is the wrong side of the bed?" Ziva asked.

"It means that you're cranky," Tony explained with a sigh. "You sleep on the left side of the bed?" he asked, thinking about what she had said.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ziva said with a hint of mischief creeping into her eyes and a wicked smile dancing across her lips. She rolled her eyes and went back to her paperwork.

"Maybe," Tony replied coyly.

"Morning Tony. Morning Ziva," McGee said as he walked past them towards his own desk. Tony was still smiling that I'm-about-to-mess-with-McGee smile that he always got right before he pulled a prank on McGee.

"Gear up, we got a dead marine," Gibbs announced as he strolled into the bullpen, coffee in hand. Tony sighed and picked up his things. McGee hadn't had the chance to sit down and adjusted his grip on his bag. Ziva typed out a few more words and signed something before getting everything together and getting ready to leave.

"Something up?" Gibbs asked Ziva when they got into the elevator. She and Gibbs were standing in the front of the elevator with McGee and Tony behind them. The ex-Mossad officer stood there, looking impassively at the door as she waited for them to open and for the awkward silence to be broken. It was just now that she was starting to realize how much of a mess she looked if all the people she worked with were commenting on it.

"No," Ziva lied easily, glad that she was practiced liar. Aware that someone was staring at her she leaned back and moved closer to Tony. He was blushing slightly and quickly looked away from the smug looking Israeli.

"Yes, Ziva?" He asked.

"Please stop staring at my ass," Ziva said and quickly walked out of the elevator and towards the parking lot. "I will drive!" she announced.

"Oh, no," McGee gulped.

"I'd rather walk," Tony said in a fearful tone.

In the end, Tony wound up driving after he and McGee managed to talk Ziva out of it while still avoiding saying outright that she was a terrible driver. They instead claimed that it was because she looked too tired to safely drive. Being tired she didn't put up too much of a fight, which for Ziva is the amount of fight a normal person puts up when they aren't being allowed to drive. She sat in the back with McGee and checked her text messages. McGee noticed that the first message she read made all the color drain from her face and she spent the rest of the car ride cradling her phone to her chest as she stared out of the window. Even Tony realized that something was wrong, aside from the exhaustion.

"Who is he?" Ziva asked in a quiet almost whisper that was very uncharacteristic of her as she looked down at the blood stained face of a once handsome man with close cropped black hair and lifeless green eyes. There was still a blissfully happy smile on his lips that suggested something had made him very happy before death and swept him away.

"Petty Officer Ethan Cooper," Gibbs reported as Ziva began to snap pictures of the crime scene. It was a quiet suburban street scattered with leaves and aside from the bullet, several frazzled suburban couples, and some possible security footage there wasn't very much to go on. The footage still had to be examined and Tony was talking to the couple who owned the house closest to where Petty Officer Cooper had been shot.

Tony walked back over to Ziva, McGee, and Gibbs. Suddenly, Ziva's phone went off again and she pulled it out of her pocket to read the text that someone had sent to her. He looked over her shoulder and tried to catch a glimpse of what she was reading. All he managed to get a look at "I've missed you—"and this made him wonder just who was texting his Israeli co-worker. Before Tony could read anymore she snapped her phone closed and showed it back into her pocket as her face became emotionless and cold. "Who's texting you? A boyfriend?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"No, it's just a wrong number," Ziva sighed as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone then turned it off before replacing it in her pocket. She seemed older when she was tired and somewhat more mortal than she seemed to be. The smile she flashed at Tony, but it was forced and week as she went back to work.

"Oh, how many texts have you gotten?" Tony inquired casually as he decided to help her take pictures of the crime scene and let McGee take over speaking with the witnesses. Gibbs was talking with Ducky and Palmer, who had just arrived.

"Two," Ziva replied curtly.

"Other than that one?" he asked, prying.

"Including that one," she sighed in annoyance as she tried to keep focused on work but between work, the paperwork that awaited her, and Tony pestering her she was starting to have difficulty focusing.

"You sure you're okay?" Tony asked in a concerned tone. She was starting to look sick with the dark circles under her eyes and her pale skin. She seemed distant and it was starting to worry him greatly.

"I am fine, Tony," Ziva lied as she started to cough.

"Do you have a cough, my dear?" Ducky asked as he walked past the two of them towards the body of Petty Officer Cooper.

"I have been feeling rather sick lately," Ziva admitted.

"Perhaps you should get some rest," Ducky suggested as he looked over Cooper.

Ziva thought for a moment and shook her head. "I have too much work to do," she said and coughed again.

Across the street from the NCIS investigation, several people from the neighborhood stood watching from behind the police line. Housewives in modest outfits stood, chattering nervously as they wondered about how this would affect property values in the coming years. The three—two boys and a girl—teenagers in the crowd were regarded with slight suspicion and had formed into a tight group. One of the boys picked up his skateboard as the other put his arm around the waist of the girl. A few men stood in the crowd, most of them talking about how they were going to beef up security soon. Children stood right on the edge of police lines, the younger ones jumping up and down to get a better view of the investigation. Away from the rest of the watchers was a young woman, who didn't look like she lived around their.

Her dark hair was pinned up in a tight bun, but a few strands of wild curls had escaped and were blowing in the wind. Behind her dark sunglasses, tears shone in her eyes as she watched the investigators take pictures of the crime scene. In her trembling hands, was a cell phone that she was rapidly typing a text message on. She turned away and started to walk away after another moment of watching the investigation. One in particular seemed to interest her and as she tore her gaze away, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

Biting her lower lip, she wiped the tear away and strode off, stuffing her phone into her pocket as she hurried down the street, not looking back. No one looked after her except for the teenage girl with scene style bangs and honey blonde hair. Confusion flickered across her face as she realized that the woman in the long black coat was not from the neighborhood. For a moment, she considered telling someone about the strange sight but decided against it. It would only make people notice her more, which with all the attention that was on her and her friends now, was not a good thing. She knew the suspicious looks from other families were because they believed she and her friends were responsible. Everyone always blames the teenagers after all. Especially, if they have a history of rebellion and the entire neighborhood has blamed them for crimes in the past.

She glanced up at her boyfriend and stayed silent, thinking: telling won't be worth it.

A/N: I hoped you enjoyed my first chapter of "Wrong Number" and I very much appreciate reviews.