I'm back in the saddle! I have decided to write a sequel to Going Down. I hope you enjoy.
Agent T
Ziva inhaled the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee, as she stepped into the Starbucks a few blocks away from the navy base. She knew, all too well, that Gibbs despised the coffee shop, claiming it was too addicting to be lawful. Although she was extraordinarily fond of her boss, and respected his opinion, she couldn't help her weakness.
Stepping in line, she waited for her turn, admiring the scenery, and noticing that the small shop appeared more crowded than usual. Of course, she sighed, realizing she had chosen to take her coffee break at noon at the same time as everyone else in the entire city. A full fifteen minutes had passed and Ziva was now behind two other customers. In the distance, behind the corner, somewhere toward her right, she could hear a faint beeping. It was a timer of some sort and a half-inched ear-gauged barista was too busy flailing her arms trying to make hundreds of coffees that she had no time to silence it. Ziva's mind traveled with the sound, and the beeping sent her mind to an unpleasant memory. She remembered a heart monitor, and lying in an ambulance. Abby had been holding her hand, and Ziva's heart broke at the thought of Abby's tear-stricken face. Ziva had just been pulled from the wreckage that was the elevator, after Dearing had defused the bomb, and her heart had stopped for well over two minutes.
"Um, ma'am. Ma'am," Ziva looked up, stunned out of her memory.
"Yes," she questioned, slightly confused.
"You gonna order?" The barista nastily chewed on a stick of gum, which Ziva knew had to be against some kind of regulation, but paid little attention to it and began her order, "I would like a grande White Chocolate Mocha latte, with caramel drizzle mixed in please."
"Whip cream?" The barista asked weary-eyed and uninterested.
"No, thank you."
"Name?" The barista lifted a cup with a permanent marker and waited for Ziva's response.
"Tony," Ziva stated, knowing—from experience—that her own name was too difficult and confusing, and was usually spelled, "Siva."
The barista lifted her eyebrow; her eyes scanned over Ziva's face questioningly, but quickly wrote the name noticing the growing line of customers.
"Four fourteen's your total," Ziva paid, and collected her coffee, stopping to sprinkle vanilla powder in her drink at the napkin stand before heading out.
Walking slowly, enjoying every sip, she headed for the navy base. Since Gibbs had given Tony and her permission to…well…be…closer, cases began to pile in, and Tony and Ziva were increasingly frustrated with the new work load. Once in while, Ziva would catch a devilish smirk pull at Gibbs lips when Tony would complain of his never-ending pile of paperwork.
Work left Tony and Ziva with little time for anything. Though they hadn't actually slept together, they had gone on multiple dates to the movies and candlelit restaurants, which Ziva had thoroughly enjoyed. Despite her enjoyment, she couldn't help but want more time with Tony. It seemed they were always separated, stressed, and constantly running. They told each other that nothing had changed between the; that they were still the best partners and capable of completing the tasks at hand without distraction, but that had proven to be false. Being a couple had changed their entire lifestyle. They had suddenly become more aware of one another and they each became anxious when the other was called out into the field.
They both knew it was ridiculous to worry, especially since they had spent years working with one another so they assumed it was just a phase and they both worked against their emotions, desperately concealing their worry. Ziva figured Gibbs must have noticed the difference, which explained the changes in work load. Though Ziva didn't wish to admit it, the separation had helped.
Clear-minded and focused, they were able to work as they had before, without distraction. It wasn't until recently, that Gibbs had allowed them a break. Tony and Ziva were able to spend about an hour together, after work, for personal use, before they'd go their own way. To Ziva, it didn't feel like much of a dating relationship, in fact, it had turned into their regular partner relationship. Bantering, cat and mouse games, and some flirting. Somehow, it was enough for them at the beginning, but now Ziva wanted more.
And so, when she entered the bullpen, having finished and tossed her Starbucks cup outside (trying to cover up the evidence of her coffee weakness) she took charge and headed straight for Tony's desk. His head was bowed over a monstrous stack of paper work, which he had tried and failed to blackmail McGee into doing. She placed her hands on the edge of his desk and leaned her body weight on her arms, resting her legs in the process. He didn't look up, and before she could speak, Gibbs strode into the bullpen with his head held high. He held an empty Starbucks cup in his hand, and leisurely placed it on Ziva's desk. She had turned and was now observing his actions; her eyes widened when he turned the cup and written in permanent mark was Tony's name. The blood drained out of Ziva's face, which she tried to hide by stepping toward him, but was silenced when he spoke, "Don't think that I don't know."
With that Gibbs walked to his desk announcing, "Dead marine, grab your gear."
The trio responded automatically, grabbing their gear, and heading for the elevator. On the way Ziva pulled Tony aside. He glanced at her. It was the first time of the day he had stopped to look and her, and for some reason that made her feel cold and warm.
She began quickly, "Are you busy tonight?"
"Just work, why?" He watched her expectantly.
"I was just wondering if you'd like to do something tonight," she stated sheepishly.
Tony's expression fell in the slightest as he began, "Oh, um…I'd love too, really I would, but Gibbs has had us working like dogs—" His words were cut off by Gibbs calling to them from the elevator where he and McGee had been waiting.
Ziva didn't wait for Tony to continue she simply turned on her heel and stalked off. He had angered her. Great. He thought to himself. She didn't even let me finish. Just as Tony strode my Ziva's desk he caught a glimpse of the coffee cup, and a wide grin spread across his face when he read his name.
He half-jogged to the elevator, slightly cringing at the contraption, and began in a serious tone, "Boss, we got a problem."
All three watched him as the elevators doors closed behind him, "My identity has been stolen."
McGee rolled his eyes, and Ziva avoided eye contact, still upset about their previous encounter.
Gibbs eyed Tony as he dramatically pointed a finger at Ziva and stated, "I believe this is our suspect, and I accuse her of stealing my identity for her coffee pleasure. Starbucks coffee pleasure, nonetheless."
"Aw give it a rest DiNozzo, I already know," Gibbs sighed.
Tony was going to continue on with his teasing when he registered Gibbs words, "Wait, you know?"
"I'm the one who put it on her desk," Gibbs stated.
"How come I didn't notice," Tony looked at McGee who responded with a shrug.
The elevator doors slid open and the three stepped out, Ziva was the only one to answer his question, "Because you were working."
She didn't look and him—not even a glance. Anger radiated off Ziva, and it was impossible to miss. He had to fix that, and soon. If only she had waited to let him finish, he was going to invite her to come to his place and stay in instead. He figured they had spent so much time apart that she would rather spend more time alone together, preferably somewhere quiet and relaxed.
Now, Ziva was under the impression that he didn't even want to spend extra time with her. He vowed the moment they reached the crime scene that he would pull her aside and tell her the truth. The only problem was the crime scene was in a fancy hotel across town, so he would have to endure an hour long car ride with a fuming Ziva.
When they had all settled in the car—McGee rode shotgun, while Tony and Ziva shared the backseats—Gibbs briefed them on what to expect.
"Where headed to Omni Shoreham Hotel—"
"Hey isn't that place supposed to be haunted?" McGee interrupted, and when he caught a glimpse of Gibbs annoyed stare he promptly said, "Never mind."
"Dead marine on the top floor. House keeping found him dead. Well know more when we get there," Gibbs foot slammed on the pedal, causing all three of the agents to fall back in their seats. Trees and lights blurred passed the windows, and Tony sneaked a quick glance toward Ziva who was clearly avoiding any kind of interaction with him.
He surprised her by placing his hand over hers, and she turned her head to meet his gaze. He expected her to pull away, or worse, smack him. She did neither, holding his hand firmly and giving him a small smile. Ziva wanted to be angry with Tony, but in the moment his skin touched hers and his emerald eyes bore into hers, all her anger melted like butter on hot toast.
A little under an hour later, the team arrived at the hotel. Tony exited the car, his jaw dropped in the amazement as he laid eyes on the hotel for the first time.
"Wow, look at this place," he came around the car to Ziva's side who appeared to be in a better mood.
"Hey boss," McGee called when they had started up the stairs to the entrance, "maybe I should wait here and help Ducky find the crime scene."
"He'll be fine, let's go," Gibbs continued walking, as McGee gulped.
Tony came up behind him, "What's the matter McScardypants? Don't like ghosts? Boo!"
"Leave him alone Tony," Ziva softly scolded him; noticing McGee was pale with terror.
Tony comforted him once he realized McGee's fear, "Aw c'mon, there's no ghost's in there. It just looks creepy that's all."
"I know," McGee tried to play it off, but he convinced no one.
They followed Gibbs through the front door, and they all shivered as the chill of the air conditioner hit them. They walked briskly to the front desk, waiting patiently as Gibbs spoke with the owner. Tony took the opportunity and leaned over to whisper into Ziva's ear, "As I was saying before, I wouldn't like to go out tonight, but I was wondering if you'd like to come over to my place for something more relaxed," Ziva's head shot up at the question and Tony smirked at her reaction.
"I thought…" The words died in her mouth, and she laughed realizing how silly she had been with her pointless anger.
"Is that a yes?" Tony waited expectantly.
"Yes, and I'm sor—" Tony placed a finger on her lips silencing her before she could finish.
"I know," he stated simply and she nodded with a small smile.
McGee coughed, and Tony stepped away from her just as Gibbs rounded the corner.
"McGee, you're with me. DiNozzo take Ziva, go upstairs, bag and tag, check the elevator, eye witnesses said he rode it the same night he died."
"On it," Tony answered wearily.
Both Tony and Ziva went pale at the thought of riding an elevator in a haunted hotel, but they brushed it off, comforted knowing they would be with each other.
Once Gibbs and McGee had left to look through the front desk's database, Tony and Ziva headed for the elevator. Both swallowed nervously when they spotted vintage brown doors, and nearly ran when they creaked open.
"Elevators…hmph, I thought we went through this already," Tony complained, "It's like they're out to get us, I swear."
A moment passed and neither stepped forward over the threshold so the doors automatically closed. Ziva stepped forward and pushed the button again—the doors opened, creaking like bones.
"Now or never," Tony stated, Ziva glanced at him, remembering his words from long ago.
"It's just an elevator," Ziva spoke trying to sooth them both of their fears.
They waited too long, and once again the door closed.
"I thought we already over-passed this obstacle," Ziva stated confused by why she would be afraid of the elevator when she felt fearless to ride one anywhere else.
"I guess the whole haunted hotel part is getting at us," Tony leaned in once more and pushed the button, and the doors creaked opened—louder this time as if daring them to enter.
Tony sucked in a breath of air, exhaled sharply, grasped Ziva's hand, and walked forward.
"Time to face the beast," Tony spoke with a sigh, and then watched the glittering lobby as it disappeared behind two malicious doors.
The elevator was dimly lit, adding to the eerie effect.
"What floor, thirteenth?" Tony asked.
"Is thirteen the top floor?"
"Yeah."
"Then yes, it's the thirteenth floor. Gibbs said the top floor," Ziva stated matter-of-factually.
"Just our luck, a haunted hotel, thirteenth floor, this just keep getting better and better," Tony was agitated, and his bitter tone illustrated his fear perfectly.
The elevator seemed ancient, for every time they would pass a floor the lights would flicker, scaring the couple.
"Maybe this is karma for what I did to McGee earlier," Tony began, hoping that joking would make the time slip by faster.
Ziva didn't answer, her pulse had already quickened, and she was focused on the number panel. They let out a sigh when the panel read, thirteen, in bright crimson numbers. Then suddenly, the lights flickered, and to both of their horror the doors remained shut. No. Tony thought to himself. He stepped forward and tried the, Open Door button, but the doors wouldn't budge.
"Tony. Tony!" Ziva called, her breath coming heavy.
"Call McGee," he ordered, and Ziva fumbled with her phone trying to work it with shaky fingers.
"Ah," Ziva let out a distressed gasped as she read no signal, "I have no signal."
Tony checked his and responded with a helpless, "Me neither."
He turned to the doors and tried to force them open with his fingers, Ziva would have helped, but she was frozen in place with fear.
The doors didn't budge, and Tony mindlessly began beating at the door with his fists all the while yelling, "Not again. Not again! Damn it."
Ziva watched him, panic sinking deep into her bones. Tony turned and noticed her frightened figure, and calmed at once quickly going to her side and wrapping her in his arms.
"Hey, it's okay. We'll make it out. Everything's going to be alright," Ziva's eyes stung with unshed tears, and she recalled the same words he had spoken to her if only a few months ago in the Dearing explosion.
"Tony," she began in barely a whisper, "we're stuck."
And so it begins. Hope you enjoyed. Tell me what you think.
Agent T