Chapter 1 - Sowing seeds

"I will see you both tomorrow," Ziva announced shouldering her backpack and heading for the elevator. "Tonight I again explore your wonderful public transportation."

Tony and McGee exchanged puzzled glances. Their questions arrived simultaneously: "you're using public transport at this time of night?" from McGee and "you wrecked your car again?" from Tony.

"Yes to both." She turned to Tony, "and it was not my fault."

"Ziva," said McGee grabbing his coat and backpack, "let me drive you home."

"That is completely unnecessary, McGee. I am perfectly capable of utilizing public transportation."

McGee was already beside her. "Please," he said. "I'm leaving now anyway and we live in the same area. It would be insane…illogical for you to take the bus when I am driving right near where you live."

Ziva considered carefully. "Alright, I accept," she said finally. "Thank you for your kind offer, McGee."

Ziva sat in the passenger seat eyeing the steering wheel of McGee's Porsche with unbridled lust. "Do you think I could maybe.."

"No."

"But.."

"Still no."

"What is it about men and their cars?" she grumbled.

"They are an extension of our personality, a reflection of our manhood."

"So you are saying your personality is flashy and low or that your manhood is defined by a small stick that determines your every move?"

McGee turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Actually I'm saying you habitually write-off cars and I don't want mine to be next."

Ziva folded her arms in a huff and collapsed against the back of her seat. "It's never going to happen is it?"

"I'd have to be pretty sick," he admitted. He started the engine and wisely changed tack. "So what happened to your car?"

"A truck ran over it."

"What?"

"I parked in a loading zone and a truck backed up over it. The driver claimed he never saw it." She sat up straighter on her seat and started gesturing with her arms. "I mean it has a bright red bonnet! Who misses a bright red car with two black racing stripes down the front?"

"The driver of a huge truck," McGee informed her.

"Yes, well thank you for that information. It will be out of action for a week."

"So can I give you a ride to work in the morning?"

She knew it was reflexive politeness. "That will not be necessary. I will adjust my jogging route to accommodate my new situation."

"You can't seriously tell me you are going to jog to work from Silver City?"

"No, but I may go part way and take the bus from there."

"What about home at night?"

"McGee!"

He took his eyes off the traffic for a moment to look at her. "What?"

"You are not my mother."

"I know: it's just that…well a woman, after dark, alone. It's just not something I want to see happen if I can help it."

Ziva studied him in the beating light of the passing streetlamps. McGee: the last of the chivalrous men. Sometimes it annoyed her when men treated her as if she needed protection. Conversely, sometimes it bothered her when they treated her like one of the boys. It was up to them to guess her mood. McGee was unusual among men. He accepted and even admired her skills and yet he displayed a genuine concern for her everyday welfare.

"You may drive me home, if you wish," she consented.

"Thank you for the ride McGee," said Ziva as she heaved herself out of the low-slung car.

"Anytime."

Striding towards her door, she noticed he was still waiting at the curb. She turned and marched back to the car. McGee wound down the passenger window as she approached.

"Did I forget something?" she asked.

"Ah, no."

"Then why do you have me under surveillance?" she demanded.

"Ah, I was just waiting for you to go inside, to make sure you were safe. I thought you'd be insulted if I walked you to your door. Actually I thought you'd break a bone if I even suggested it."

Ziva smiled – McGee understood her better than she thought. "I will be fine McGee, I have travelled through most of Europe alone and still lived to tell the tale."

"I know." He made no signs that he was about to leave.

Ziva's sigh was only slightly exasperated. "See you tomorrow, McGee."

"Yep."

She turned her back on him and stalked back to her front door. The sound engine idle accompanying her on her journey. It was only after she opened the door, put on the front light and actually waved, that he finally drove off.

Ziva smiled slightly entered her lounge room. McGee had an inkling of her capabilities and yet he still viewed her as a woman. Not many people appreciated the dichotomy. He was really very sweet.

She chastised herself. What was she doing, thinking about McGee that way? He was like Robin to Tony's batman, Illya to Tony's Napoleon. She'd always loved Illya. She laughed to herself; Illya must be as old as Ducky by now.