Title:Within the Fishbowl.
Author:Keenir
Proofreader:Jennifer Marie.
(any and all remaining errors are my own, entered after getting the fic back with suggestions)
Written for:omearalee
Prompt:Ziva, (Kate), Tony, ep: Under Covers
{sorry for not being able to work Kate into it}
Archive:Please archive this at the ficathon's fic archive. Everyone else, ask please.
Genre:(detective?)
Pairings:teeny tiny inklings of Tony/Ziva if you're inclined to see it. otherwise, none.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:I own none of the canon characters. I own only the characters invented for this story.
Word Count:2784.
Summary:Ziva and Tony have to investigate a murder aboard a facility built to simulate a trip to Mars. This is their side of the investigation.
Day 88 in the mission:
The sole function of this room was for sleep. On three walls were personal sleeping bags, and on the fourth wall was the only way in or out of this room, an automated door not unlike that found at grocery stores.
The doors slid open for Theodore Clay, only to stop midway and he nearly crashed into them, "What the?" he asked - and only then did they open all the way. Greeted by a slight warmth, "John said he'd fixed that," Theo said to himself. "And Mission Control said they'd sent up a better program to run the doors." Stepping inside, "Up for a snack, Jen?"
The lump in the central sleeping bag didn't reply, didn't even shift. He walked up to said bag. "Jen? Snooks?" No answer, and he wasn't comforted when he felt the bag – the temperature was uniformly room temperature all across it, despite this material being horrid at retaining heat; there should have been at least *some* difference between body warmth and the bag. "Lt. Walker?" He unzipped it; If you answer nothing else, Jen, answer to that at least.
One limp hand rolled.
Theo stumbled back, pale face and wide eye, he hit the Alarm more from training than through his conscious mind, which was rebelling at what lay before him.
From what he could see, there was no swelling, no cuts, nothing missing, nothing added.
But Jennifer Clay – nee Walker, a Lieutenant in the United States Navy – was dead.
.~~.
Mission Day 90
Investigation Day 2
The room was small and unornamented, with a locked enter/exit door on one end and a door to the bathroom on the other end. Between them, two sofas faced one another and between them mini-fridge sat in the floor in the middle of the room.
The primary door would only be unlocked after enough time had passed to simulate a journey to the spaceship. To avoid giving any warning to the murderer, the NCIS team had deployed two agents partly undercover. And one of the technicalities of the project, both before and after the financial issues, was that everyone inside had to be either married or engaged.
According to Gibbs, somebody'd taken a poll, and the two agents most likely to pull off being married – or giving that appearance – were DiNozzo and David.
The spaceship: their destination. Rules set up for emergencies, were being employed. The Scottish planners likely had prayed that something like this – a murder! – would never take place within the walls of their grand experiment.
"I can't believe they wouldn't let me bring my movies!"
Ziva didn't sigh, didn't roll her eyes, even though this was the third time Tony had made that complaint. "Energy conservation, Tony. Try reading a book."
"I know, I know; use just enough power to get to Mars. No more than the solar panels give. But still, no movies? They really expect people to settle on Mars when it means never seeing another movie as long as we live?" May as well go whole hog – or at least take in as much of this experience as I can without) Ziva killing me.
"They. They live."
"I prefer Plan 9 … at least, if it has to be a zombie flick. I didn't enjoy They Live quite as much."
Ziva bookmarked her page. "Would you like me to teach you Hebrew?"
DiNozzo blinked. They had had this conversation before, almost verbatim at times…and she hadn't offered that before, not in any of the iterations of the discussion. "What?"
"Do you. Want to. Learn H-"
"I know what you said. I'm curious why you said it."
"It'll pass the time," she said, ticking reasons on her fingers. "You don't like re-reading books. This is a two-year voyage." Longer than previous estimates on travel time had figured.
"We'll be finished before that happens."
A smile with, "Such an optimist," a statement which which probably confused anybody listening. Ticking off her next finger, "We're supposed to be an item."
"An item, yeah. Not an old married couple bilingually finishing each other's sentences." After a bit, when he was sure that she was back in her book, he said, "How 'bout when we get there, okay?"
Two days from now. "Okay," she said in that cheery voice she used at times. A few silent minutes later, "I'll remember."
"I don't doubt you will."
.~~.
Mission Day 93
Investigation Day 4
"Please stop that."
Tony stopped drumming his fingers. "What, this? It's barely noticeable."
"I noticed it," Ziva said.
Raising his hands, DiNozzo took the opportunity to stretch. "This is going to be a looong trip, dear," placing special emphasis on the final word.
"We'll be under constant monitoring when we arrive, Tony," Ziva said. "Not before then. Then we'll have to pretend to be engaged."
We can be ourselves, use our own names and everything, Tony thought to himself. But since nobody would buy a claim that me and Ziva are married, we're going to claim to be engaged. "Goody. Looking forwards to it."
She shrugged.
God, such enthusiasm. As she wasn't going to comment, Tony did. "Six people in cramped quarters, facing three years in a fishbowl...surprised it took this long for any of them to crack."
"They weren't supposed to break," Ziva said.
"No test can catch every nut."
"We can try."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Am I detecting some skepticism in your voice, Miss David, about this program?"
Putting her book on the couch beside her, Ziva said, "I don't see the need for missions to Mars. Particularly manned ones."
"Well at least we won't be going into space, then," Tony said.
"True. But we're supposed to pretend that we are."
"A simulation. Yeah. So they can finish ironing out any problems with the ship and organization."
"Doesn't seem to have worked."
The murder. Yeah. "Point," Tony agreed.
Ziva picked her book up and started to read, but, struck by a thought, set it back down. "Of course, with the communications delay and the constant monitoring, we won't be privy to everything Gibbs and Ducky discover," she said.
"True," Tony said. "Unless they put it in code."
"True," Ziva agreed.
"But it's still a disadvantage," Tony agreed. "At least it's a disadvantage that runs both ways." Anything we put want to tell Gibbs, we have to put in code too.
.~~.
Mission Day 92
Investigation Day 4
The door finally unlocked, letting the two of them walk down the long corridor, at the end of which they were admitted through a very submarine-looking hatch. "Welcome aboard." Tony and Ziva were greeted by a woman. "I'm Susan Clegg."
"Tony DiNozzo, and this is Ziva." He reached out, touching the discoloration on Susan's right cheek; she neither flinched nor pulled away.
Ziva made a noise. "We're not here five minutes, Tony, and you're already groping women?"
"I'm not gr- The hell?" Tony said as the discolouration smeared on her cheek came off at his light touch. And the weirdness has officially begun. "Mind explaining?" he asked Susan. Why look like you're being abused, if you're not? Or is it just to draw attention away from something else?
"I rolled out of bed," Susan said, "and I hit the ceiling."
"There's no anti-gravity, here or elsewhere," Ziva said.
"True, but when we make a mistake in here, we have to treat it as though the gravity does get shut off – it's policy."
"Why is it policy?"
"We can't afford to keep this facility experiencing zero gravity, so we're under orders to pretend there's no gravity."
"Pretend?"
Clegg nodded. "For the entire length of the trip."
"Shut off?" Tony asked.
She nodded. "Follow me. You can leave your bags here and they'll be stowed."
Tony wondered, Is that what happened to Lt Walker? She made a mistake whose zero-G penalty would've been death?
They passed by several doors, but only two doors interested Tony; the entry hatch, and the sleeping quarters.
"Since the murder, none of us have been sleeping in our bags," Mrs. Clegg said. She led them through another doorway. "We've been sleeping in here instead," leading them into the rec room. Five blankets littered the floor, each with a set of ropes over them. "I didn't tie one of my knots very well last night, and I rolled out
"And supposedly hit your head?" Ziva finished.
"Just how did you pull that off?" Tony asked.
"In every twenty-four hour day, there's a block of a few hours when most of us sleep, and that's when the lighting changes so we know when gravity's supposedly been shut off."
"You said 'most' – who's awake at the time?" Tony asked.
"Whoever draws the short straw. He has to be latched down in the indoors control room."
"Why the short straw?" Ziva asked.
"Catheters and other tubes all have to be inserted, just in case, to prevent any accidents. But this can't be germane to your investigation."
"My colleagues outside are conducting an investigation. As for myself, well, the Navy wants to know how me and my sweetie here," Tony said, throwing an arm around Ziva, who turned her head to look at him, "handle a vacation like this."
Looking at Clegg, "Why is it not possible to be germane?" Ziva asked.
"Besides," Clegg said, "Jen Walker was alive at the end of the sleep cycle – I know because I helped unlatch her from the control room chair – the sleep cycle never overlaps The Five."
"The five?" Tony asked.
"Five minutes a day, all monitoring and communications devices are automatically turned off."
"Energy conservation," Tony said, thinking of his movies.
"Yes. And that is when she died: her husband found her at the end of the Five."
.~~.
Mission Day 94:
The pale blue light of the Five shone mutedly from all the light fixtures. Tony took the opportunity to slip into the shipboard Control Room. All the panels in this room reminded him of a nuclear power plant, or a large hydroelectric dam. "A fish with tentacles and a starfish with tweezers?"
Seated at the control console, Thomas Ichaporia looked up and gave a smile. "Pretty concise description. Have a seat if you so like."
"Aren't we supposed to be running things here?" Tony asked.
Thomas gave an empty chuckle. "During sleep-time, sometimes, though rarely. Otherwise, whoever is in this room is essentially twiddling their thumbs."
"C'mon!, seriously? All this stuff, and it's just for show?"
"For emergencies. But while we can fix a piece of code or equipment, the main Control Room gets final say."
"In everything?"
"Yep."
"So anything you do, the guys down on the ground can undo it?"
A nod.
"New programming?"
"Updates are transmitted nearly every day." Appraising DiNozzo, "The job sticks around, even when we're off-duty making conversation, eh?"
"Yeah, pretty much," DiNozzo agreed.
"I know the feeling. I'm an electrician."
"So you fix all the wires in here?"
"I'd love to, 'cept I'm not allowed to – none of us are."
"That doesn't make much sense." Wait a minute…
"Tell me about it. And unless we hit one of the alarm buttons, any message to the nice folks outside takes sixteen to twenty minutes."
"Time delay?"
Thomas nodded.
"Same as for any updates you want to make?"
Another nod.
"How 'bout changes made by the nice folks outside?" Tony asked.
"Instantly."
And the sleeping room was empty for two hours before the victim had gone in there. And she wasn't in there a full twenty minutes. "So, what happened to the fish?"
"Hm? Oh, my drawing. It's more a hobby than anything else, but unofficially, I'm the team xenobiologist – it's my job to figure out the minds of aliens and why they might look and think and act the way they do."
"Cool. So can anyone try their hand at this?"
"Go for it. Just remember, nothing appears out of nowhere."
"Like with murder."
"Especially like."
.~~.
MEANWHILE:
The beverage selection was understandably limited. So Ziva sat down in the rec room with a cup of powdered hot chocolate.
Looking over from his book, the widower Clay asked her, "CIA?"
Ziva snorted. "Why does everyone assume I'm CIA?"
"I'd hazard it's your accent."
"Really? Then why not the PFA or the SIDE?"
He shrugged.
"So, how are you faring?"
"I'm holding up well as can be expected, thanks."
"You're welcome. And have you mourned?"
"Never in public."
"Public? There are only five of us on board." And whomever was watching the feeds via the cameras. "Ah. The outside."
"Exactly."
I can do a lot of things, Ziva thought to herself, but I doubt I could start and stop and start again sitting shiva. "Anything I can do?"
"No. But thanks for the offer."
Ziva nodded. "Do you think I could send a message to my parents?" After my little talk with the Cleggs, I need to update the team.
"Sure, no reason why you couldn't. We've only got videophone, mind."
No email, no regular phone. "It'll do."
.~~.
Twenty Minutes Later:
"What'd I miss?" Tony asked, joining them in front of the comm monitor.
"Nothing," Ziva said, standing up so he could take her seat. At first, he just looked at her; she gave a tiny nod, and he sat down. This has to be just right. "We just said hello to Gibbs."
"Hey boss," DiNozzo said to Gibbs, who wouldn't receive the greeting for another eighteen minutes. "Do you guys miss me yet?"
"When has any of them ever said Yes to that?" Ziva asked Tony.
"Good point."
"Gibbs, be certain you tell my Dad I said Hi." Ziva said, placing one hand atop Tony's head and ruffling his hair. Message sent.
Placing one hand atop hers, Tony caringly patted it, then gripped her hand as is proper. "Ditto for me, boss." I'd be a lousy fiancée if I didn't join in and say Hi to my future father-in-law. "Oh!, by the way, Gibbs, while you're out there, could you set my VCR for me? Yeah, I know I should've done it myself, but you gotta admit this forced vacation thing was kinda last-minute. And if you're thinking of doing what Kate did, you can forget it: the little buttons behind that swinging cover on the VCR front, they don't work anymore – so you'll have to use the remote. Yeah, I know how much you hate 'em, but still. So, next Friday, 8 pm, Hooters National Championships."
Ziva delivered a Gibbs-style slap.
Tony looked up at her. "It's for my bachelor party, sweetness, after which, I'm giving it to McGee."
"All right," she conceded.
.~~.
DAY 97
"Fishbowl? You used our only vowels for a compound word?" Ziva asked.
"We've got no problem with it," Susan Clegg said. "This place is a fishbowl."
Thomas and Wendy Ichaporia nodded. "No argument." A fishbowl, a place where the monitoring is total and complete.
"Alright!" Tony said, "thank you, thank you all."
"Mensh," Ziva muttered.
"Oh sure, give away our next move." Seeing that Ziva looked a little alarmed, "Kidding, kidding."
The call came during the third hour of a championship team Scrabble competition. So, despite the fact that Tony and Ziva were currently winning, they answered it. "We're sorry, your call could not be completed as dialed," Tony said, "but if you'll wait until the beep -"
"We got her, DiNozzo," Gibbs said over the video link, unaware he'd interrupted. "One of the computer programmers out here. And she confessed to why she committed the murder."
"Great," Tony said. "So does this mean we can leave now?"
"We'd have to," Ziva said, "spend two weeks in the transport room," the place they'd spent a mere four days inside on their way to the ship.
"I can think of worse places."
"I'm sure you can," she smiled.
"So, boss," Tony asked Gibbs, "why'd she do it?"
"No doubt you're going to ask this, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "She says she did it so we'd be ready for when this happens during real space missions."
"One small step for man, one giant murder for mankind?"
.~~.
DAY 109
Tony and Ziva were sitting next to each other, their heads leaning on one another.
"DiNozzo. Ziva," Gibbs said on the monitor. "DINOZZO!"
Both of them jumped up from their chairs. "Yeah, boss?" Tony asked as they came over by the screen.
"Just got a response. I called in a couple of favors, and I'm told you both have to stay in their 'til the end of the mission.
"And by the way, you both snore."
"Do not!" both said as one.
THE END