Title: Keeping It Together
Summary: From Cassy's prompt: "Gibbs and Ziva have a fall out while working a case and he refuses to talk to her. A frustrated Ziva seeks out either Ducky or Tim and asks for advice."
Rated: PG-13
Categories: Drama, McGee/Ziva, Angst
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Author's Note: Written for Cassy for the Chinese Fanfic Exchange on NFA.
Chapter One
Ziva managed to maintain her composure, despite the tongue lashing she had just received. From Gibbs. Of course. Though it was never truly that difficult for her to remain unfazed – on the outside, at least. She had been trained to not let things bother her and while that left her open to criticisms of being heartless and cold, she took pride in her steadfast nature.
It had all begun earlier that day. She had gone with Gibbs to interrogate a suspect – a Marine had been found brutally beaten in Falls Creek and he had pointed a bandaged finger at a fellow Marine, one who had been known to express certain bigoted tendencies. Yes, their victim was Jewish, and he had been the victim of an anti-semitic hate crime.
Ziva had insisted on going along with Gibbs to interrogate the suspected Marine, while he was trying to prevent her from going. He had a feeling she wasn't going to exactly be fair to the guy – not that he really deserved fairness, if he was the bigot their vic claimed he was, but regardless of that, he still deserved equal treatment until they could determine whether or not he was their man.
Ziva entered the interrogation room first. Automatically, the suspect sneered. Ziva clenched her jaw and sat across from him.
"Gunnery Sargeant Keith McDurmand, yes?" she asked, ignoring the glare he was giving her.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied bitterly.
"Do not call me ma'am, please, Gunnery Sargeant," Ziva ordered him, fixing him with a steely glare. She paused, her mouth open slightly, then continued her line of interrogation. "Are you familiar with a Joseph Dresden, Sargeant McDurmand?"
McDurmand snorted. "Sure. He works in the mess hall. I see him every morning, noon and night. What about him?"
Ziva narrowed her eyes, trying to decide his motivations. "Are you aware that he was severely beaten in Falls Creek yesterday?"
A brief flash of something indecipherable shone in McDurmand's eyes. "No. I was working."
Ziva smirked. "Ahh, I see." She complemented her comment with a raise of her eyebrows.
McDurmand's sneer grew deeper. "You see what? That I have a job and I was doing it? That I wasn't out . . ." he threw his hands up in a reckless motion, "getting myself into trouble?"
Ziva raised her eyebrows at his choice of words, then narrowed them just as quickly, hissing, "You have just implicated yourself in this crime, Gunnery Sargeant. I would not be so quick to judge were I you." As she spoke, she leaned over the table, causing her necklace to fall from its hiding place beneath her shirt.
The dangling charm caught McDurmand's attention and he stood. "Oh, I get it now. You're with Dresden, aren't you? Some sort of, what, Jewish coalition?" He pressed his hands to the table, leaning in and forcing Ziva to back up. "I got news for you, lady – I ain't about to stand for this. Say what you want, I didn't beat that Jew bastard. Anything he got, he deserved."
Ziva's eyes steeled over and she did the unthinkable – she reached out and struck McDurmand in the face.
The door to the interrogation room opened in a flash and Gibbs entered, barking out, "David! Out!" as McDurmand swore loudly, holding his bleeding nose.
Ziva's demeanor changed upon hearing Gibbs' voice, blazing eyes turning to water, and she slowly walked from the room, wincing a bit as Gibbs slammed the door shut behind her.
"What the hell was that, David? You figure he needed to know what Dresden went through or what?" He paced a few steps, then slammed his open hand against the wall. And then . . . he just walked away.
And that's what led to Ziva's current predicament, standing motionless in a silent hallway at NCIS, staring after the retreating figure of her boss, someone she respected with every bone in her body. She felt frozen. Simply frozen. Gibbs had yelled at her before, but he had never just walked away like that. She felt ashamed of herself and embarrassed for losing control, for being . . . emotional.
Ziva closed her eyes, holding back tears. It simply would not do to cry about the situation. Crying wouldn't help anything. It would probably only make things worse, she decided. Gibbs would take one look at her and deem her too weak to be on his team.
But even as those words passed through her head, she knew that was a lie. Gibbs didn't choose just anyone to be on his team – he only wanted the best. And while he hadn't exactly chosen her, he hadn't made her pack her bags, either. (Well, he did, but he wasn't forcing her to leave his team.)
She opened her eyes again, drawing in a deep breath before turning to go back to the squadroom. She had to collect herself before facing Tony and McGee. And Gibbs again, since that was probably where he had went.
As she rounded the corner, she saw the usual sights of her workplace – Tony lounging in his desk chair, shooting spitwads at an annoyed McGee, who was doing his best to ignore the senior field agent and continue with his paperwork, and across from them, Gibbs, clenching a styrofoam cup in his right hand, knuckles white.
Ziva moved swiftly to her desk, waiting to see if Gibbs would attempt any words. When he didn't, she opened her mouth to speak. "Gibbs, I . . ."
He stood, announcing, "I'm going to Abby's lab," effectively cutting her off, then turning and stalking to the elevator.
Tony and McGee turned their attention from their respective tasks to their exiting boss, then looked at Ziva. She had a look of wide-eyed surprise on her face, mixed with the slightest tinge of something else – worry? Sadness? Anger?
Without words, she stood just as abruptly as Gibbs had and followed his motions, taking herself to the elevator.
As the doors closed, Tony turned to McGee, letting out a low whistle. "Wow. Gibbs must be really pissed. I'm glad I'm not her right now."
McGee frowned. "Have some sympathy, Tony. She probably just needs someone to talk to."
Tony snorted. "Yeah, and that most definitely is not me. I'm sure that's what she's on her way to doing, anyway."
"But Gibbs is with Abby . . ."
Tony waved his confusion away. "Do you really think Ziva would talk to Abby? I mean, Abby is like, Gibbs' keeper. And, besides the fact that they're both women and women supposedly talk to each other about emotions, this is Ziva we're talking about." He leaned back in his chair again. "If she's going to talk to anyone, it'll be Ducky."
McGee pondered that for a moment, nodding. "I can see that, sure, but why wouldn't she talk to one of us?"
Tony let out a laugh, clapping his hands slowly together. "Okay. Probie? Like I said. This is Ziva we're talking about. She won't talk to me because she knows I'll just shamelessly rag on her about having emotions, and she won't talk to you because, well, you don't exactly have a history of being well-spoken."
"Hey!" McGee exclaimed, insulted. "If you weren't so juvenile, she might be willing to talk to us, rather than turning to Ducky."
Tony shrugged. "Have it your way, McGeek. All I know is," he laced his fingers together behind his head, "I'm content not seeing the emotional side of our dear Mossad officer. She's scary enough already."
McGee rolled his eyes at his partner, ignoring his antics. As much as Ziva hassled him, he knew they were friends, and this was something he knew he could truly help her with. He sighed. If she didn't want to talk to him, he wasn't about to force her to. There was nothing he could do about that. He just hoped she'd get the advice she needed from Ducky . . .
