AN:

Disclaimer: Not mine.

THE WASHINGTON MURDERS

And so we lay or scene

It was a beautiful day in the early spring. It was just warm enough to enjoy an ice-cream and if you were lucky you could hear a bird cry. Everyone was happy that the sun had made his return. But in a tiny, little office in the center of the city was a young, beautiful woman stressing out, waiting for the phone to go off. Hoping it wouldn't. Knowing it would. She wished again that she hadn't taken this job, that she'd chosen another profession when she still could. That she'd taken the job to be a doctor, like her father had advised her. But stubborn as she was, she wouldn't listen to him and pick a more dangerous job: being an FBI-agent. She'd known that it earned bad and that the paperwork would be to die for, but it was the thing she knew would irritate her father the most. And she would happily make some paperwork to do that. But this, she couldn't handle. She paced through the room, looking up everytime she heard something, even if it was someone laughing outside or someone walking in the hallway. The clock on the wall was ticking very slowly, as if it was ticking in slow-motion. It could be any minute now. She was getting more nervous. She sat down, but immediately stood back and kept pacing. The sound of the clock annoyed her. It sounded like a thousand times louder than it really was and sounded like it was talking to her, blaming her for the events that had happened. The lives that had been taken. Tik Tok. Tik Tok. Your fault. Your fault. And the clock was right. She should've caught him a long time ago, but somehow he'd always outsmarted her. And it was giving her the creeps. It had never taken so long for her to catch someone, and she was scared for the more lives that would be taken. Knowing that the last one wouldn't stay the last one. It wouldn't stop until she stopped him. And she needed to do that as soon as possible. Every second counted. But right now, she must wait for the phone to ring. Another pair of footsteps sounded in the hallway. She stayed still, waiting for the footsteps to pass, but instead of passing her office, they stood still. The door handle moved and very slowly, the door opened. The girl immediately took her gun and waited for the person to come in. A handsome man came in to the office, with a big childish smile, but eyes that made her fear him. Guess she wasn't going to get a call today. Instead, she got a visit of the man she hated the most.

"Hello Ziva," He smiled even bigger. "Long time no see."

Timothy McGee was overly happy, lying next to the woman he loved more than he loved his own life. She was pretty, sweet, funny, cheerful. Everything you want in a girl. The only thing he didn't like so much was the fact that she was married, and not just to anyone, but to one of the most important people in town. While mrs. Gibbs was lying in his arms, mr. Gibbs was probably drinking coffee with the president. And he felt very bad about it. Every time they met, he would tell himself that it would be the last time, that it would never, ever, ever happen again, that he would tell her that it was over. That they couldn't see each other anymore. He had practiced that speech over and over again, and once he had found the courage to tell her, she smiled. And he was lost.

"So, what's the matter? No credit on your cell anymore?" Ziva's voice sounded as venomous as possible.

He laughed. "Well, princess, I've missed you." He said.

"Don't call me a princess," Ziva said. If looks could kill…

"Only if you stop acting like one."

"So what, you don't really expect me to call you prince charming, do you?"

He came closer to her, pinning her between the wall and him. "Only if you want too," he whispered in her ear.

"You do know I am armed." She said.

"So you will be able to kill me without even flinging?" He asked, clearly laughing at her.

She just looked at him, with a look in her eyes that asked him to try her.

His face hardened and he turned around. "If you don't want to hear what I have to say, that's fine." He walked to the door.

This was so unfair, she thought. He knew she would want to know everything. Why was she so curious? "Speak." She said.

He turned around, a smile on his face again. "Someone is copycatting me." He said. "And I want to know who."

"Who would want to copy you?" She said. "It's not like you're so special."

"Oh yeah?" He said, sitting down at her desk. "So why can't you catch me?"

"Oh, I will. You just wait." She said.

"I probably will wait, princess. I'm having much fun around here." He leaned back, his hands behind his neck.

"Don't get too comfortable."

"You're right." He said. "I probably should go. So you can work on my case. Maybe you'll finally prove that I am…" He looked at her with a smile. "How do you call me again?"

Ziva glared at him. "I call you Tony," She said. "But if you want to tell me your last name, that would be great,"

"That bugs you, right? Not knowing a single thing about me, when I know a lot about you? And I meant my other name." Tony smiled, totally ignoring her last question.

Ziva felt like she could explode. "You should go right now." She opened her door and pulled him of the chair.

"You're probably right," Tony said. His laugh was getting bigger and more childish with the minute. "Your dear partner Jimmy Palmer will come in anytime now. And we don't want him to know about our little relationship, do we?"

Ziva was stunned. "But we don't have a relationship."

"Yeah, but our beloved Jimmy doesn't know that, does he?"

Ziva pushed him out of the door. "Jimmy knows everything about you."

"If with everything you mean everything you know, than that practically means nothing." Tony said, but he walked away anyway. He waved at her one last time and turned around the corner.