Title: The Stipulation

Chapter: 1

Disclaimer: The characters in NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles do not belong to me. I just put them in awkward situations and make them find their own way out.


Thursday 00:00

The top of Ziva's head was the only part Tony could see over the crowd of people. He took a slow sip of bourbon and watched as her curls bobbed in time with the music.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs voice reverberated through Tony's eardrums. He discreetly turned the volume down in his earpiece.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Anything?"

"Not yet." He scanned the bar again with his eyes. Intoxicated sailors littered the dance floor, clumsily dancing. Nearby, a booth full of Naval officers shared a pitcher of dark beer. There were a few women sitting alone at the bar, all dressed in cleavage-bearing mini dresses. Tony rolled his eyes and took another drink. It's not fun when you make it that easy, he thought to himself.

This was the eighth night at Land Ho!, a Los Angeles Navy hotspot. They had been brought in by Vance to assist the Los Angeles division with an undercover operation that had recently hit a dead end.

"Alright, lets bring it in." Callen's voice sounded disappointed over the earpiece.

Tony swallowed the last of his drink and stood up. He turned to his left and made his way through the crowd toward the bar.

Pulling out a five-dollar bill, he slid it across the pine counter toward the pretty brunette bartender. "Thanks for the excellent service," he said, smiling slightly.

Kensi Blye shot him a sly smile and stuck the bill into the front of her tank top. "Leaving so soon?" she asked.

"No action tonight," he replied, using the code phrase to indicate the team was pulling out.

She nodded, "Keep your head down." She smiled one last time before turning toward another "customer."

Tony grinned and saluted her, making his way toward the exit and veering toward the men's room at the last second.

The head was empty, and oddly well kept for a dive bar along the main strip. The team had spent a lot of time at and around the place over the past few weeks, rotating shifts and trying not to arouse suspicion. With a potential serial killer on the loose, they were trying to blend in and catch the asshole before he struck again.

"This bar is the common denominator," Callen had insisted.

Tony's head shot toward the door as it was pushed open. He shook his head and zipped up his pants as his partner entered. Ziva David kicked the door shut with a high heel and put a hand on her hip with an expression that hinted at exasperation.

"Someone is going to see you," he said, stepping toward the sink to wash his hands, "and I am going to get head-slapped for it."

"We need a new tactic."

He dried his hands and turned to face her. Ziva's face was flushed and her hair fell softly onto her bare shoulders. The green dress she wore hugged her curves, falling mid-thigh and elongating her toned legs. He swallowed. "Tell that to Gibbs." He stepped around her, toward the door.

She stopped him with a hand on his wrist, looking up at him with her brown eyes. "I'm telling you," she paused, "senior field agent." Her voice was low—almost suggestive—her body was turned toward him, face close enough to….

He took a deep breath and shook her out of his head. "This isn't our show; it's Callen's."

After a second, he felt her release his wrist and he exited the bathroom quickly, leaving her alone.

These moments had been building; they had lately become intense to the point that it scared him.

It has worked out before, his brain reminded him as he made his way toward the bar exit. His rationalization of past… incidents was that their mutual attraction could only be pushed so far. The experience undercover and the twelve-hours they had spent in bed while in Paris could be written off as mere discrepancies in an otherwise innocent relationship.

A part of Tony knew he was lying to himself.

This was the part that drove back to the team's safe house and jumped directly into the frigid water of the shower.


Thursday 09:00

Ziva ducked and rolled under Sam Hanna's left hook. For being out so late, she felt surprisingly awake this morning.

"Too slow," she jibed in Arabic.

He smiled, raising his fists in a defensive position. "I'm just getting started," he replied, speaking in her native language.

She enjoyed sparring with the ex-navy seal. He insisted on speaking Arabic with her, claiming to need the practice. Ziva held back during these sessions at first, giving him a false sense of security. He was an adequate opponent, keeping her on her toes, but she was faster.

She caught his fist at the last second, almost too late. He had strength, but she had agility. She quickly twisted his fist sideways and jabbed him in the abs with her knee. He tried to block her, but moved too slow, catching her knee after the jolt, only managing to knock her off balance for a split second. She caught herself, crouched, and whipped her leg out to hit him in the back of the knees. Sam's knees buckled and he landed with a loud 'thud' on the mat.

He swore in English.

She corrected him in Arabic and held a hand out, pulling him off his back and to an upright position.

"One of these days, ninja."

Laughing, she grabbed a towel and turned around, just in time to see Tony enter the building. Their eyes met momentarily before he turned the corner, walking toward the main office. She exhaled and pulled her towel off the floor, heading toward the showers.


Thursday 10:00

McGee was half listening to the conversation between Callen and Gibbs as he studied Land Ho!'s hidden cameras from the night before.

"We'll get another break, Gibbs," Callen was saying.

"We've been here for two weeks," Gibbs replied. He was sitting with his coffee, rolling the cup around the table in front of him. His posture was relaxed, non-argumentative. McGee had the feeling that Gibbs respected Callen and did not want to step on his toes, but two-weeks without a break on the case was frustrating.

Suddenly, Sam Hanna entered the room at a brisk pace. "Hey G, you gotta check this out." He flipped on the television and turned up the volume. A local reporter was in the middle of a newscast, her voice filling the room.

"According to friends, Stella was last seen at Land Ho! last Thursday. LAPD learned of this disappearance from her husband, Navy Lieutenant Darren Lutz, who is currently stationed abroad."

Callen's expression darkened, "Where is Deeks and why does the LAPD know about this before us?"


Thursday 14:00

"We've been looking at this from the wrong angle," McGee explained as he shot four photos toward the main screen.

Eric, standing near the center of the room, enlarged the four photos so they were visible. "Tara Smith, Adrienne Louis, Lane Thomas-Barson, and now… Stella Lutz. They were all married to enlisted men stationed overseas," Eric explained.

"And, they were all cheating on their husbands with men they met at local bars," McGee finished, grinning at Eric.

"Why didn't we catch this before?" Callen asked, a note of agitation in his voice.

"None of the men came forward and only the cheating wives were targeted," McGee answered.

"We assumed the killer picked up the women at the bar, took them home and killed them," Kensi added, tapping her pencil against her teeth. "But he wasn't the one that picked them up, he just followed them after they were picked up."

"And then waited," Eric added, nodding.

"LAPD was contacted by Stella Lutz' husband when she failed to answer her cell phone for their weekly check-in," Deets said. "After speaking with a few of her bar hopping friends, they admitted that she hadn't been the most… dedicated Navy wife."

"Should have just Dear John'ed him," Tony stated.

McGee rolled his eyes.

"They found her body, bound and gagged in the prayer position like the others," Deets finished.

"So we're looking for a male, either in the service or a veteran, probably between the ages 21-30," Nate said, holding the case folder open in his hands. "He's a man scorned."

"Had a wife that cheated on him while abroad," Callen said.

"And is finally getting revenge," Gibbs said, tossing his empty coffee cup into the trash.


Thursday 17:00

"We need them to be convincing."

"Do you have another suggestion, Callen?" Gibbs leaned back in his chair and studied his friend, who was leaning forward on the desk. He trusted the man with his life, but sharing agents and teaming on assignments wasn't the easiest thing to navigate.

"We have other agents," Callen replied.

"Then why are we still having this conversation?" Gibbs didn't try to hide his irritation.

"This is a killer that is detail oriented, he watches the whole transaction… I know you trust your team, but one false move could be the end of this whole operation." Callen pushed his fists into the desk, staring at Gibbs.

Gibbs leaned forward, "I know," he said with emphasis.

Callen waited a beat, maintaining eye contact. "Okay. We'll do it your way."


Thursday 17:30

"You want us to what?" Tony looked from Gibbs to Callen, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Pick her up," Callen said simply, leaning casually against the wall. "And make it look believable."

Tony switched his gaze to Gibbs, "Boss, this isn't a good idea."

"You've been undercover before," Callen added. "And from what I have been told," he glanced at Gibbs, "You did a damn good job."

Tony wasn't sure which circumstance Callen was referring to, LaGrenouille or their stint as Canadian assassins.

"That was five years ago," Ziva interjected, speaking for the first time since they were called into the conference room.

"Same situation," Gibbs said.

"Except we might be videotaped by some Psychopath this time!" Tony said with a twinge of sarcasm. "Haven't either of you ever seen Red Dragon, where the Tooth Fairy waits in the tree behind the house and…."

"What DiNozzo is trying to say," Ziva interrupted her partner's tyrade, "is that five years ago, there was only a slight chance we were being overheard. This time, we have found evidence that the killer was videotaping the entire exchange between Mrs. Lutz and her… her…"

"Man-whore."

Gibbs rolled his eyes at Tony's remark and slapped the back of his head.

Tony shut his mouth. "Thank you, boss."

"Can you do it," Gibbs asked, "or not?"

"No."

"Yes."

Ziva and Tony exchanged an intense glance for a second. Gibbs watched the two of them with an interested expression.


Thursday 20:30

McGee handed Tony his earpiece. Tony buttoned the last button of his shirt and flipped the toggle switch, rotating it slowly into his ear. He hadn't said anything for the past fifteen minutes.

"Tony?" McGee said.

Tony put his foot on the couch and attached his ankle holster to his leg before pulling his pant leg back down, obscuring the gun from view. "Yeah?" he said after a minute.

"You're too quiet," he replied, "You haven't made a movie reference all afternoon." After a few seconds, he added in a disbelieving tone, "I can't believe I am complaining about this."

Tony chuckled and turned to face the mirror, concentrating on pushing a lock of hair out of his eyes for the next few seconds.

McGee furrowed his brow, watching his partner fidget. He remembered the conversation he and Tony had a few weeks back.

You think Ziva's less sexual now?

Compared to the Ziva I shared a bed with five years ago? Yeah.

But you guys were undercover. You were just putting on a show.

Tony hadn't responded then, just as he was strangely quiet now. Something in the back of his mind had always questioned his partners' relationship. McGee was also aware that they had "shared a bed," in Paris. He had never broached the topic with Tony, knowing he would be evasive. He picked up a pair of glasses off the coffee table, and held them out for DiNozzo.

Tony shook his head, "Not wearing them."

McGee shook his head, "It's protocol, Tony. Video surveillance glasses are mandatory in all undercover assignments," he replied, quoting the NCIS handbook.

"Not this time," Gibbs said, walking into the room and grabbing a set of car keys off the desk.

He shook his head, "Why not?" He watched as their boss grabbed his coat and exited the back door, toward the garage.

"It was our stipulation," Tony said, straightening his shirt.

McGee crossed his arms, "Stipulation?"

Tony nodded. "There was a video camera in the room when we were undercover last time."

"Yeah, for tactical purposes," McGee remembered.

"Yeah…" Tony trailed off. "Kind of awkward."

"And safe!" McGee protested.

Gibbs entered the room again, wearing an irritated expression. He grabbed his cell phone off the desk. "They'll be audio monitored, Tim," he said as he crossed the room. "It's plenty safe."

The door shut behind Gibbs with a resounding "thud."

"He is right, McGee." Ziva's voice tore through the silence. She was standing in the hallway, wearing a thin white dress and heels, with her arms hanging loosely at her sides. "We will be safe." She looked at Tony when she spoke, a curious expression on her face.

McGee looked between the two of them, analyzing. They stared at one another with heavy eyes. Ziva's chin was high, lips a straight line.

Tony broke the silence first, "You look…" he trailed off.

"Thank you," she said after a few beats. She turned toward the door, pulling it open. Just before disappearing through the doorframe, added, "see you in a few hours."

Tony nodded.

McGee was now certain there was something between them. Perhaps there always had been.


To be continued...