Had this piece lying around my files for a wee while. Was originally planning on writing A 'Planes' one shot to use for part one (so the chapters would be 'Planes, Trains, Automobiles.' Get it?) But I ultimately decided to just post this in hope that you lovely lot would help cure my writer's block. It's a bit silly, but I Hope you likey. Other entries will be posted at an inconsistent and unpredictable rate, as per.
Ordinarily, a busy train carriage would annoy the hell out of Tony. They were noisy, cramped and often had you facing the same crying baby dilemma that plane journeys were more famous for. And these issues were just scratching the surface of the horrors of public transport. There were creepy weirdos everywhere, a variety of smells—the origins of which Tony tried desperately not to think about too much—and a general sense of grossness he'd never been able to shake. That's why he'd lived most of his life avoiding the subway unless it was his only option.
But this wasn't the subway. It wasn't even inner-city transport, in fact. It was north-bound journey that was scheduled to end in Toronto. It was a lot more warm and comfortable than a rickety rumble under the streets of their nation's capital, and the high volume of passengers proved to be a lot less imposing than it would be in that instance. They weren't even creepy and weird-looking. This wasn't so bad, after all. Not to mention the fact that, for Tony and his partner, busier meant better in this case. It made it easier to keep a subtle eye on their suspect.
Speaking of partners and suspects, Ziva slid another quick glance over Tony's left shoulder in the direction of where their person of interest was seated at their dining table. He guessed there'd been no movement when she returned her attention back to her own pasta dish.
''Our cowgirl done anything incriminating yet?''
Her face was a mixture of confusion and frustration. How familiar. ''Cowgirl?''
''Yeah,'' he shrugged, ''you know, making a run for the border and all that.''
She swallowed another bite of her dinner. ''She might not be running. We still don't know what she is up to, remember? And I thought that was the Mexican border.''
''Only in the Wild West,'' he said with a smile. ''Our own adventures take place in the Enthralling East. Most of them, anyway.''
''There is nothing enthralling about sitting still on a train all day.''
He sat back and took another sip of his soda— (beer was a big no-no when he was on duty.) ''Well, we are in first class, Sweetcheeks.''
All that earned him was a small grunt of what may well have been disapproval as she looked back at the cowgirl in question again. Ziva had been in this mood all day. Her usual banter and flirtation made way for crankiness and an unwavering focus on the job. He supposed focus was a good thing, in general, but she never usually went about her work in this manner. She was usually a lot more fun. It bothered him that she didn't seem to be enjoying his company in any way on this trip. It was like she was itching to be on her feet and kicking some ass. In fact, she'd been giving him that impression for a while, and the sudden realisation about what that could mean made his stomach drop.
''Are you bored?'' he asked, not really thinking.
Her reply came quickly and without hesitation. ''Yes.''
Tony was pretty sure she was only talking about her current mood, and not the bigger picture. ''I don't mean right now. I can see that you're bored right now,'' he clarified, and when her eyes met his for the first time in what felt like hours, he saw that confusion again. ''What I meant was, are you bored generally? With work, with life?''
Her frown deepened. ''What makes you ask that?''
''It's just, lately, you seem kind of…'' He wasn't sure how to describe it. Not without pissing her off, anyway.
''Kind of what?''
Her curious expression was now replaced by one that struck him as far more self-conscious. He doubted it would look that way to anyone else, given the fact that Ziva generally had impeccable control over her outward emotions, but he knew her well enough to know that she was simply seeking his outlook and opinion, and not looking for an excuse to stab him with her fork.
He still wanted to tread carefully, however. ''You just seem a little frustrated, that's all. Like you're tired of being sat still.'' Her eyes fell away and her face softened slightly. ''And I'm talking about the bigger picture here, not just this particular case,'' he felt the need to explain.
She poked at some pasta with her fork, clearly not interested in eating it any time soon. ''You are basically saying I've been a pain in the ass, yes?''
Tony couldn't help but chuckle, and was relieved to see the corner of her mouth lift slightly. ''Pretty much. But I'm used to that.'' Her smile grew slightly, but his thoughts turned more serious. ''I'm not used to spending time with my best friend when her mind always seems to be elsewhere.''
Ziva's smile fell slowly. ''It is not elsewhere,'' she argued weakly.
Unconvincingly. ''I'm not sure I believe you.''
''Tony,'' she said with slight frustration as she stole another glance at the suspect.
He knew her, though. He could tell when he really needed to drop something or when, on the odd rare occasion, she actually wanted to talk something out but insisted on resisting him. She still wasn't used to this whole 'sharing' thing and he understood that. He just wondered why her defences were still always up when it was just them, and wasn't sure how to play this, but he decided it wasn't worth potentially pissing her off while on the job.
''If you want me to drop the bone, I'll drop the bone,'' he shrugged, before leaning forward again to try and tackle another king prawn.
Ziva's eyes were back on him now. He could feel them burning into him, and when he heard her take another deep breath he braced himself for her to actually start being honest. ''I am not bored,'' she insisted, only this time he believed her words.
He gave up on his food again and looked back to her. ''Really?''
She nodded. ''I may have been a little restless lately, but it has nothing to do with the job. I still love what I do, and my life is a lot less boring than most people's.''
He couldn't argue with that, but it was still Ziva. ''But it used to be even more crazy.''
''Yes.'' She smiled again, almost shyly, in fact. ''I think crazy is a good way of describing it.''
''Is that was this is about?'' he dared to ask. ''You miss the spy game?''
''No.''
Her speedy and emphatic answer gave him more relief than he thought possible. He released a breath he didn't realise he was holding. ''Okay,'' he said, deciding to move on from anything Mossad related. ''If it's not the job itself, is it your co-workers?''
It was a nothing question, really, and he knew it. Ziva loved her team like they were family (he was pretty sure of that), and he was almost 90% convinced that she wasn't suddenly feeling restless and frustrated because of him. Well, maybe it was more like 75%.
But, sure enough, there was unmistakable affection in her eyes, confirming the nothingness of the question. ''Of course not, Tony. It is nothing you need to worry about.''
Her eyes flicked away as she checked up on their increasingly uninteresting suspect again. When it was clear nothing important was happening in that regard, he leaned over and rested his hand on top of hers in a gesture of gentle determination. Another heavy sigh left her mouth after he did so, only this time it wasn't one of frustration. It seemed more like she was simply tired of trying to keep up the brave act.
''Hey,'' he said softly in hope that she would return her focus to him. It worked. ''If it's worrying you, then it should be worrying me as well.''
A half smile, however brief, seemed to pull at her mouth. ''You do not need to be looking out for me all the time, you know.'' Her tone went hand in hand with the brief smile as a signal of how touched she really was, though.
''Of course I do. What else am I here for?''
She tilted her head in a subtle gesture to their suspect. ''Well, hopefully, you are here to help me catch our suspect red-handed as they try and leave the country.''
He shrugged his lips. ''Yeah, there's also that,'' he conceded. ''But you know that whole thing about men not being able to multi-task? That's a myth.''
''Are you sure?'' she teased.
''I'm fairly sure.''
Her face fell slightly once more and he felt the air between them turn serious again. He had completely forgotten that her hand was still resting under his until he felt her flip it and grip his fingers gently. ''Schmiel is in hospital,'' she finally revealed. Just the sound of her voice was enough to make him know it was bad, but she apparently wanted to elaborate. ''He is dying, Tony.''
That time her voice had wavered, and he felt his stomach twist with sympathy. ''Oh God, Ziva, I'm so sorry. Any Idea what it is?''
''They are not sure. But he is very old now, so it could a number of things.''
There were tears gathering in the corners of her eyes now, and he found himself gripping her hand even tighter. ''Is he in Israel?''
She nodded and wiped at her eyes with a look of self-admonishment. ''Tel Aviv. If he knew it was all about to end, he would never want it to happen outside of his home country.'' A small, proud smile formed on her otherwise worried face. ''He has always been very proud of his roots.''
From the small amount of time he'd spent with Schmiel Pinkus, Tony had to admit that the old gentleman never gave off the impression that he was patriotic. But he supposed he didn't have many other Israeli's to compare Schmiel to. The late Eli David was so extreme in his patriotism that his country always came before his family, so Tony supposed that set the bar pretty high in terms of his expectations of what a proud Israeli looked like. Schmiel did, however, seem to be a very passionate man, so it wasn't all that hard to imagine him wanting to spend his last days at home.
When he noticed more tears gathering in his partner's eyes, though, Tony realised that he needed to focus on her. ''You going to fly out to see him?''
She cleared her throat, no doubt trying to find some composure. ''I want to, but I have not yet found the time.''
He frowned when he suddenly remembered that her restless behaviour had lasted for what felt like weeks. ''How long has he been in hospital?'' he asked.
She shrugged. ''A few weeks, maybe.''
''So that's why you've seemed kind of—''
''Restless? Testy? A general pain in the ass?'' she asked.
He tilted his head and kept the conversation serious. ''You don't like sitting still when you should be over there with him.''
Her sad sigh was becoming too familiar. ''Yes. That is probably the best way to sum it up.''
Tony got a strange feeling in his chest at the sight of her face. Because, honestly, you didn't have to know her for the best part of nine years to know that she was trying her hardest to stop herself falling apart. And if you happened to know her and love her like Tony did, it only made it harder to watch. He suspected the feeling may have been his heart breaking for her.
''I am sorry,'' she murmured, again wiping at her eyes. He wasn't sure what the apology was for, and indicated such with his frown. Thankfully, she continued. ''It is not fair that I have been difficult this whole time. It is just that…Schmiel means a lot to me.''
Her ran his thumb over her knuckles. Back and forth, back and forth. ''You never need to apologise for that. I know how much you love him.''
''He is like family,'' she said simply. ''Since my father died, he has been the only family I have left in Israel.''
''I know. I'm sorry, Ziva,'' he repeated. ''But you've still got us, right?'' He squeezed her fingers lightly. ''We're always going to be here for you.''
The deep, brown eyes he saw so often and loved more than any others softened again as she held his gaze once more. She seemed to hear what he was really saying. ''I should have told you sooner. I know having someone there to talk to makes it all easier. I am still not quite used to having that someone. But you are always there for me and you deserve to know these things.''
''You just needed some time, Ziva.''
She nodded again. ''Maybe.''
''You should fly out to him.''
Her expression morphed into one of frustration for a few seconds. ''There have been so many cases recently. And I know how much Gibbs hates being down an agent. I am not sure—''
''He'll understand,'' Tony cut in softly. ''Everybody will, Ziva. Just ask him.''
She hummed as she considered it, but still didn't look convinced.
''If you don't, I will,'' he added.
The carriage jolted and shook slightly as it trundled along the tracks, and Ziva shot him a warning look. ''No,'' she said, pointing her finger at him. ''I do not need you fighting my battles for me.''
''Exactly. So prove it.''
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied his face. ''Hmm,'' she grunted after a few moments. ''I suppose I could bring it up after the case.''
He nodded and smiled in approval. ''You should. He won't mind one bit. Our gruff marine boss may be a hard-ass, but he has an unquestionable soft spot for you.''
She glanced at their suspect again. ''Is it as soft as your soft spot?''
He smirked. ''Oh, I doubt it.''
The classic teasing smile was just about to form on her pretty face when something behind him caught her attention. ''Someone has joined her,'' she reported in a far more professional tone.
Tony found himself removing his hand from hers and falling back into his special agent mindset.
''A man,'' she continued. ''He has a 9mm in his jacket.''
He frowned and found himself itching to turn around. ''You can tell that from here?''
''Yes. They are both standing now and are headed to the next carriage.''
''Okay,'' he nodded. ''Should we follow?''
Her eyes narrowed as she thought it over. Tony tried his best not to think about how cute it looked. ''I think so. They don't seem to be friendly acquaintances. It is possible that he might be an accomplice.''
''Maybe he's helping her get away.''
''Perhaps.''
He placed his glass of soda down and got to his feet, holding his hand out for her. ''Then, we better catch them in the act, don't you think?''
She looked at his hand, and then at him, before smiling and letting him help her to her feet. ''Whatever the act is.''
''I just hope it's not sex.''
As he started pulling her down the carriage and towards the doors, he heard her responding chuckle, and it never failed to bring a smile to his face and spread a certain warmth through his chest. He didn't have time to focus on that, though. And he knew he would get to experience the feeling another million times in his life— (provided Ziva remains a part of it}—so he didn't worry about that too much. Instead he focused on the job at hand, rather than the woman holding his hand.
When they stepped through the second set of doors, he spotted their two suspects in discussion at the far end of the corridor. He was happy to see no one else walking around, but he remembered this was the carriage with the private cabins, the doors for which stretched down their right hand side opposite the windows. The man—who he'd been assured was armed—shot Tony and Ziva a suspicious look straight away, leaving them with no choice but to spring into action.
Ziva reacted first, spinning Tony around and pressing him up against the wall. Before he could even blink, her mouth crashed against his in a searing kiss that brought a moan from his mouth and made the whole world seem to stop. He was deepening it and running his hand through her hair to the back of her neck before he could stop himself, and all the while he couldn't help but feel a little fooled by their display himself. You wanted it to look natural when you were undercover as a couple, but he now knew more than ever that they didn't have to worry about that.
This felt as natural as anything.
Something pleasant and delicious could be heard coming from her throat, too, and it only made him greedier for her. She pulled away too soon, though. When Ziva's eyes met his, they were dark and heavy and hypnotising. He could see just how real her desire was, and it seemed to equal his in terms of magnitude. Something told him that their 'fake' kiss was to be continued. Somewhere private, and preferably when they weren't on the job.
''I think my soft spot just became a hard spot,'' he whispered.
She sent him a sultry smile and leaned into him, her knee between his legs. ''I can tell.''
''They still looking?''
''Mhmm.''
Tony swallowed, trying to regain composure. But Ziva was still there, with her eyes and her hair and her smell, and he would be a liar if he said it wasn't all driving him nuts. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder again and whatever she saw happen was enough for her to take a step back and leave his personal space. He was still under her beautiful spell, but now he could breathe a little easier and concentrate his mind on something other than what she would look like after being stripped of her clothing.
''They went into one of the cabins,'' she told him, only just succeeding in sounding professional.
Tony blinked his way back to Earth. ''Which one?''
''The one at the far end.''
She started leading him down the corridor, but he grabbed her elbow and leaned into her slightly. ''Hey, we can't just go bursting in there.''
Her eyes dropped to his lips and back. ''Why not?''
''Remember when you first became a Navy cop and you were taught about something called Probable Cause?''
She rolled her eyes. ''Then what do you suggest we do?''
Honestly, he couldn't think of anything. All he could offer was a shrug. ''Maybe we could make out again until they re-emerge.''
Ziva took it good humour, which was probably the second best way she could have responded. Her head fell to the side as her eyebrows raised, her throaty chuckle enough to tell him the exact likelihood of that happening. But, before any more could be said or planned, the door to the cabin at the far end of the carriage opened and their mystery man did, in fact, re-emerge. It caught Tony off guard, but thankfully Ziva's reflexes could never be called into question.
And that was how he found himself up against the nearest door, with her lips on his again.
He was aware of two sets of eyes on them—their original suspect had now appeared too—but very little else outside of the bubble he found himself in with his partner. The more he kissed this woman, the more wanted to keep doing it. Preferably on a more consistent and long-term basis. The woman in question pulled away again and started fumble through her little clutch. Through his haze, he managed to peak in and catch sight of a knife, a SIG and some lipstick. The fact that he was more surprised to see the lipstick was a reminder of how long he'd known his ninja.
''I am sure I had the key in here,'' she told him.
He caught on immediately. ''I told you to give it to me, honey.'' He leaned down and kissed her cheek briefly. ''You're always losing the car keys at home.'' Her mouth fell open at that, so he kissed the look of fake offence off her face.
''It has to be somewhere,'' she continued afterwards, throwing in a little frustration into her tone.
He smirked. ''I'm not going to have to frisk you, am I?''
That earned him a genuine chuckle, and for a second it was easy to forget that they were playing any roles other than themselves. Too easy, in fact. It was all too natural and synchronised. It seemed to fool their audience as well, because Tony heard two sets of footsteps followed by the sound of the next set of doors opening and closing as they left for the next carriage. He breathed a sigh of relief as Ziva stepped away again. Her eyes following the retreating suspects.
He loosened the collar of his shirt and puffed out his cheeks. ''Wow. Is it hot in here?''
''It is just you,'' Ziva shot back, not really concentrating on him as she approached the cabin their persons of interest had recently left vacated.
''No. It definitely feels hotter in here.''
''Her hair was different.''
Now he was the confused one in the partnership. ''Come again?''
''She was blonde when she went through door,'' Ziva said, pointing in the direction that their suspects left in. ''And when they came back out she was holding an envelope, and she was brunette. I'm pretty sure she changed her clothes as well.''
Tony felt a little bit embarrassed not to have picked up on those things, but he gave himself a break. He did have Ziva attached to him at the time, and his back was to them as they left. ''You sure?''
''Positive,'' she assured him.
''Must have been a wig,'' he guessed. ''And maybe the envelope had a fake passport and papers.''
Ziva nodded. ''That's what I was thinking,'' she agreed, before stepping over to the room they used for the identity switching activities and pushing at the door. It creaked open to reveal a supply closet. It was just about big enough to contain two people, and there was an abandoned coat and smashed cell phone lying on the floor. It gave their shared theory even more ammunition.
They both looked from the closet to each other at the same time. ''I'm feeling pretty confident that she's guilty,'' Tony said with a small smile.
Ziva nodded. ''She is certainly on the run from something.''
''I think it's time to approach them.''
Another nod, but also scepticism. ''What about the armed man?''
''We can take him down too, but only if it's safe. She's the priority.''
''I agree.''
Ziva led the way as they swept through the next two carriages looking for any trace of their suspects. Tony recognised the brunette woman sat on her own in the middle of the third one, which was empty aside from two or three people who appeared to be sleeping. She may have changed her hair and coat, but he recognised that jaw line and nose. He'd always been good with faces— especially women's faces, admittedly.
He could tell Ziva spotted her, too, and when she stopped she made sure to be blocking any escape routes. Tony peaked over and caught sight of the passport picture their friend was looking at. It was a convincing, but ultimately fake, picture of a brunette woman who looked a lot like their blonde murder suspect. She looked up at them with enough edgy nervousness to let Tony know that she wouldn't be troublesome when they arrested her.
''Judy Garcia,'' Tony reads from the fake passport in her lap. ''Cute name. Not sure about the hair.''
She looks between them again and leans away slightly. ''Who are you?''
''People who are not easy to fool,'' Ziva answered smoothly.
Tony nodded. ''Yep. And my partner and I were just thinking. What possible reason could someone have for fleeing the country under a fake name and changing the most distinctive part of their appearance? Ziva?''
She played along. ''I am not sure. Maybe the murder of a Navy Lieutenant?''
''Yeah, that'll probably do it.''
Tony looked back down at the now terrified suspect—who he was pretty sure was now the official culprit—and gave her a smile that he'd been assured annoyed the crap out of people. She simply swallowed and looked down at her lap. ''Are you the police?'' she asked them.
''NCIS,'' Ziva announced, lifting her badge at the same time as Tony. ''You will remain under our watch until the next scheduled stop, and then we shall take you into custody and return you to DC to await trial.''
Her lips started trembling, a stark contrast to the emotionless expression and tone of Ziva. ''I'm under arrest?''
Tony nodded and raised his eyebrows. ''Oh, yeah. Your buddy from Phony Passports R Us won't be far behind, either. You should probably tell us where he went. Although, there is a limit to where you can hide on a moving train.''
There was a sudden movement in the corner of his eye, but before he could even turn his head the man in question was there. Only he wasn't hiding, as expected, and he had his 9mm gun pointed at Ziva's head from behind her. For a second, Tony felt paralysed. He instinctively went to pull out his sig from the ankle holster, but it was too far.
''Don't even think about it, cop!''
He held his hands out in a sign of cooperation, and looked into Ziva's eyes long enough to see that she had the situation under control. This guy didn't even know how stupid this was. ''Speak of the Devil. We were just talking about you, Mr...''
''Shut up!'' the man spat out. ''I ain't going back to jail.''
Tony laughed. ''So where are you going? The morgue?''
He poked his head around Ziva's shoulder, and Tony could tell he was a junkie just by looking at his eyes and red face. ''I mean it, man! Back off, or she gets a bullet.''
''What's your plan now, exactly?'' Tony asked, keeping his hands up. ''Really? I'm curious.''
''Stop the train and let me off,'' he commanded.
Ziva gave Tony the most subtle of nods, and that's how he knew she had weighed up her opponent and was ready to kick his ass. Tony didn't need to stall any longer. ''Um, no. Not going to happen, buddy.''
''I'll blow her brains out!''
Another look at Ziva only made Tony even more confident. ''Buddy, you chose the wrong person to hold at gunpoint.''
The next few seconds were a blur, even for Tony. He couldn't even imagine what they were like for the poor junkie holding the gun. Because before he could even respond to Tony's words, the elbow of an ex-Mossad officer connected with his face. Hard. That was followed by a spinning punch, an impressive kick to the nuts, and stamp on the wrist to disarm him. No shots were fired, and Tony released the breath he'd been holding and let out a shaky laugh as Ziva kicked away the 9mm.
He couldn't help but smile down at the junkie as she slapped a pair of cuffs on him. ''Oh, no. And just when I was starting to think your plan was fool-proof.'' He turned to their original arrestee, who was now sat as far into the corner of the seats as possible. ''Fist fights on a train. How very From Russia With Love.''
She gave him a look like everyone around her was crazy.
''Just so you know,'' Tony said, pointing in Ziva's direction. ''If you try and run, I'm sending her after you.''
There didn't seem to be much chance of that, though. 'Judy Garcia' looked a lot more terrified than she did in her passport picture. He suspected they would get a confession out of her before they even matched her finger prints to the murder weapon. He turned back to Ziva just as she was shoving the junkie into a pair of seats and cuffing him to the table in front of them. She stepped over to him when the idiot was secured.
''Was that exciting enough for you?'' he asked with a smirk.
She chuckled. ''I have had more thrilling confrontations.''
He felt his smile grow for a second, before reaching over and tapping her on the shoulder. ''You had me worried there for a second, Supergirl.''
She scrunched her nose at him, looking irresistibly cute. He wouldn't say that to her, though. Especially after seeing that impressive display.
''I always had him,'' she insisted.
''I know,'' he assured her, reaching over the brush a few loose strands of hair from her forehead. ''Is it inappropriate that I kind of want to kiss you again right now?'' he dared to ask.
His bravery was rewarded with one of Ziva's private, intimate smiles. The ones that never failed to make his stomach flip. ''At the moment? Yes, it is a little inappropriate,'' she answered eventually, and he was just about to let himself feel a little disappointed when she looked him up and down with a wicked smile. ''But perhaps it would be more appropriate later,'' she added more quietly.
The soft sincerity in her voice made him more than a just a little excited, but he tried to keep his head screwed on. Although, really, how could he not be counting down the seconds until they were off duty so he could take her up on her offer?
''I'm going to call Gibbs,'' he told her, reaching into his pocket to take out his cell. He knew that a conversation with his boss would keep his thoughts on the professional side for just that bit longer. Ziva nodded, but didn't get to respond before a dizzy sounding junkie called out from the seat he was trapped to.
''I want a lawyer!''
Ziva rolled her eyes. ''Shut up.''
Tony smiled at her as she sat down in the seat across the aisle from their two captured criminals. Although the news of Schmiel's illness was a kick to the gut, he was glad to hear that she wasn't made bored by the job or sick of her co-workers— (he, in particular, seemed to be right in her good books). Personally, he didn't think he could ever be bored whilst working at her side, and he was pretty sure that would remain the case for the next…. well, always, so he was happy that she appeared to be on the same page.
He was also pretty sure he and Ziva were ready to cross a line they'd been tip-toeing around forever. But, as he heard his boss' voice coming through his phone's speaker, he knew he would have to put that thought aside for the time being.
Hopefully not for too long, though.