Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. This news comes as a dreadful shock to all of you, I'm sure.
A/N: Another incredible episode. Personally, my favorite part was Jimmy's storyline; it's about time that he spoke up for himself and got included more! And good on Ducky for listening to him. The ending of the episode was both surprising and painful and I'll be shocked if there aren't a gazillion fics dealing with the Tony/Ziva and Tony/Tim fallouts. For that reason (at least for the time being), I've decided to just enjoy reading those fics and use my time to write something a little bit different.
This fic contains major spoilers for 10x20: "Chasing Ghosts," but is set somewhere between 10x12: "Shiva" and 10x13: "Hit and Run." As this is my first time writing from Tim's perspective, constructive feedback would be lovely.
'But it does not seem that I can trust anyone,' said Frodo.
Sam looked at him unhappily.
'It all depends on what you want,' put in Merry. 'You can trust us to stick with you through thick and thin–to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours–closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo.'
— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
"Hey, how was your trip to Israel?" Tim asked his co-worker as she slid into her seat that morning.
"It was – helpful," Ziva said slowly.
Tim nodded.
"That's good," he murmured, deeply feeling the inanity of his comment.
What do you say to a friend who's just lost her father? Other than the trite 'I'm sorry for your loss' that he'd already given her, of course.
"Yes, it is," Ziva agreed.
"Look, uh, I know it doesn't mean much, but if you need anything, I'm here," he said awkwardly.
"Thank you, McGee," Ziva said, voice quiet and face unusually pensive.
A week later, Tim found an email in his inbox from Ziva.
McGee, it read, If you were serious about your offer last week, please meet me at my apartment tonight at 23:00. Regardless of your decision, do not respond to this email. Also, do not discuss this with anyone – myself included – and erase all traces of this email from your account. – Ziva
Curiosity and concern awoken, Tim followed her instructions to the letter.
That night, nervous adrenaline pumping through his veins, Tim approached the door of Ziva's apartment.
He raised his hand to knock, but Ziva opened the door before he had a chance.
"Come in," she hissed, glancing both ways down the hallway before hastily ushering him inside.
"Ziva, what's going on?" he asked.
She didn't answer until the door was closed, locked, and solidly dead-bolted behind them.
"I am… tracking Bodnar," Ziva admitted quietly. "Off the books, of course. But I am – I am at a point where my contacts are not enough. Will you help me?"
Wait, what?
It took a few seconds for Ziva's words to sink into Tim's brain. When they did, he froze again, this time for a different reason.
Tony had been right. Ziva was after revenge. This – made a lot of sense, actually. All of the little things that had seemed off about her lately suddenly began to slot together in his head. He'd dismissed her strange behavior as a product of recovering from her father's death, but now that he stopped to think about it…
"Does anyone else know?" he asked.
Ziva shook her head, then added, "It is not legal, I know, and it is dangerous and I have no right to ask this of you, but –"
"Why me?" Tim asked suddenly, cutting her rushed words off. "Not that I'm not honored that you chose me or anything, but – why not Tony? You have to know that he'd want to help."
"You have skills that he does not," Ziva said promptly. More falteringly, she added, "And… I am not – I am not ready to tell Tony."
Tim's brow furrowed. There was something about the way that she said that that made him wonder…
"You're afraid to tell him," Tim said, the words a sudden revelation on his tongue. "Afraid that you might–"
"– I am not afr– this is irrelevant," Ziva snapped, interrupting him. "Will you help me or not?"
Good sense made him not push any further.
"Why not Gibbs or Abby?" he asked instead.
More calmly, Ziva replied, "I am not ready to tell Gibbs either. He is team leader and duty-bound to report this to Vance. I do not think that he necessarily would, but…" She trailed off and shrugged expressively. "And Abby, much as I love her, cannot keep a secret to save her life. She would tell Gibbs the moment she set eyes on him."
Tim nodded slowly. She had a point.
"Besides," Ziva said, "You are my friend, McGee. I trust you."
In that moment, her tone was as earnest as Tim had ever heard it.
And somewhere beneath the anxiety bubbling in his stomach, Tim felt a warm rush of pleasure. Ziva trusted and valued him. She'd chosen him, geeky Timothy McGee, to help her.
Ziva was his friend and she needed him – and in more ways than she probably realized. She needed someone to make sure she didn't go off the tracks, didn't lose herself in this thing like she did last time.
…but Tony was his friend too, and Gibbs was Gibbs and Abby was Abby, and they'd all feel horribly betrayed if they found out that he'd known something this important and hadn't shared it with them. But – Ziva needed him. And if he told someone else, not only would she never trust him again, but she might go haring off on her own.
And really, that decided it. Tony and Gibbs and Abby cared about Ziva. Surely they'd rather be kept in the dark if it ultimately meant that Ziva would remain safer, right? And Ziva was his friend; he had a responsibility towards her.
He wouldn't – couldn't – betray her trust.
Heart pounding, Tim took a deep breath and said, "I'm in. Where do we start?"