A/N: Hey everyone. This is now my....second story. My first was called Autumn- it was also a Tony/Ziva centered fic, it would be great if you could just check it out and review if you feel like it. I'm still looking for any tips on writing style/storyline.
I don't have a lot of writing experience- although I've been reading this website for about a year now- so this story might be a little rough at points. I'm planning for this to be a shortish (or maybe longish) multi-chapter fic. Give it a chance and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it?
Tony stepped out of the elevator and immediately knew the first day of the week was going to be a bad one. It was sweltering in the office- the AC must have broken. Again. Why the hell couldn't the maintenance people fix the frickin' problem? How hard can it be? McGee could probably do it in two seconds. Hell, he, Tony, could probably do it in two seconds. All you have to do is pump some cold air into a machine, maybe switch around a few wires. Right?
Tony trekked slowly over to his desk, already feeling the sweat pooling under his arms and on his back and chest. No question about it- he would definitely need to change his shirt in the next two hours. Maybe even the next hour, if the temperature outside decided to rise a little more. It was 80 degrees already- who knew how the weather would be by noon? He threw his stuff down under his desk and sat down, sat down heavily in his chair and put his head in his hands.
McGee was clacking away at his keyboard. It was possibly the most annoying sound Tony had ever heard- each keystroke was like an atomic bomb. Or maybe popcorn on the super-high setting on the microwave. Or like bubblegum. Or maybe like….a pop tart springing up from a toaster. Oh, what he wouldn't give for a pop tart right now- but only the good, strawberry frosted kind. It had been a while since he had had one of those. In fact, it had been a while since he had eaten anything. Their last case, about a marine's wife's and daughter's murderer, had lasted much too long for anyone's liking. Gibbs hadn't been thinking straight because of the circumstances, Ziva still hadn't fully recovered from Somalia, and Tony… Tony was still recovering from Ziva's lack of recovery.
"Think ya could type any louder, McGee?" Tony asked drily, imagining the taste of the strawberry frosted pop tart on his tongue.
"Actually, Tony, I think I could. " McGee replied waspishly. He proceeded to do just this. Tony was sure that when he looked up, McGee's keyboard would be bashed into the desk.
"Jesus, McGee. It was only sarcasm. You've heard of that before, right? It's when people-"
"I'm sorry, Tony. I'm just having a fight with my girlfriend. Over email." When Tony looked doubtful, McGee explained, "You know. I'm fighting with her. By email."
"No, no, McGee, I know what an email fight is, having been in many myself. I just find it hard to believe you actually have a girlfriend."
"Tony, how many times are you gonna make that joke? Do you really think I haven't heard it enough?"
"Oh, McGee. I think we both know the answer to that one, don't we?" Tony snarked. McGee rolled his eyes and logged off of his email. It was then that Tony looked over across the bullpen to Ziva's desk, and noticed it to be empty, save for the leather brown bag on her chair that signaled her sure previous arrival.
"McGee!"
"Yes, Tony?"
"You seen Ziva lately?'
"Yeah, she came in earlier this morning. You know, on time. Which you weren't."
"Very funny, McGee. Do you know where she is now?"
"No. Why would I?"
"Because you said you saw her earlier!"
"But why would that mean that I knew where she was now?"
"Well, it would make sense- you know what? Never mind. I'm gonna go look for her by myself. I don't need your help, because I am a specially trained NCIS agent with an impressive policing and detective background-"
"Alright, well, as you're searching for Ziva, I'm gonna go grab some coffee. Call me if we get any cases," McGee told Tony as he grabbed his wallet and headed towards the elevator, away from what could very well turn out to be a long Tony back story.
Ten minutes later, Tony had completely forgotten about his hunt for Ziva. His phone had rang- a new Indiana Jones ringtone- and, although it had only been a CC from some porno sight he had given his number to ages ago, he had managed to relocate his long-lost Tetris program. It had only taken him a few seconds to get sucked into a new, super-difficult level.
Just then, his phone rang. Again. God, he hated Mondays. Especially when the AC was broken. Why couldn't Gibbs just let him play/sweat in peace? It was probably a case. He would have to put down his phone, eat his now cold croissant extremely quickly so it didn't look like he had gotten a late start in front of Gibbs, unstick his sweaty legs from his sweaty seat, pack up his stuff... yup, Gibbs would be coming down the stairs from MTAC any second now. Jeez, this was going to have to be a hurried breakfast.
But as Tony glanced down at his caller ID, he noticed the call wasn't from Gibbs, but from Ziva. He then remembered he had been planning to look for her earlier- although it would be much easier to just ask her where she was over the phone. He answered.
"Ziva! I've been looking for you all morning!" Tony fibbed sweetly into the phone. "You in the mood for a coffee?"
But he didn't get the cheerful answer he had been expecting. Nor did he get the flirty, sarcastic, intelligent voice that would have answered him under normal circumstances.
"Tony! Thank god!" Ziva whispered in a strangled, strained voice. "I need help!"
"Zi? Where are you?"
"I am in- TONY!" Ziva shrieked into the phone. Tony held the phone closer to his ear as he heard shuffling noises in the background. Then a deeper, slower voice said into the phone,
"You're never going to find her. You can try. But I know how you work. I've tricked you this time." He heard Ziva trying to say something in the background, then a bang and whimper of pain. Tony started to say something, anything, into the phone, stalling the conversation until he could pull up a track- but the line clicked off before he got the chance.
He dropped the phone onto his desk, shocked.
There was only one thing to do now. Call Gibbs.
A/N: Alright. That's the first chapter. I'm thinking an update will be here in the next 2-3 days. Sooner if you review! Constructive critsism/compliments (even better!) are welcome, as are any other comments. As many, many other writers have stated before me: reviews brighten my day.