NCIS Director Jenny Shepard opened the door to her office, then stopped abruptly.
"What the hell...?"
There were flowers all over the room - flowers in vases, flowers in pots, flowers in bunches. Many different varieties could be seen, but there was a predominance of orchids, her favorite flower. It wasn't her birthday, it wasn't any sort of anniversary.
She went to her desk, a curious smile on her face, and looked more closely at a vase full of dark pink and fuschia orchids. She plucked the card out of its holder, expecting to find the sender's name, and expecting it to be one of two - maybe three - people.
She was surprised to find no name on the card, just "From an admirer." Moving from one set of flowers to another, she discovered that they all said the same thing. And another point - they were all from different florists. Smiling, but mystified, she didn't hear the door, didn't know he was there until he spoke.
"You must have made someone very happy, Jen," he said. "Or do you plan on starting a florist's shop right here in your office?" She turned to see a smirk on his face, as usual.
"Neither." She held up the card for him to read. "At least, not that I am aware of." He read the card she handed him, then looked at her questioningly. She nodded. She had nothing to hide from Jethro, so she stood still, composed, as he looked at the rest of the cards.
"Seems a little odd that they came from different shops," he commented.
"Yes, I was wondering about that myself. But perhaps whoever sent them thought it would look funny to order eleven sets of flowers for one person on one day. I would find it strange."
"Yeah, me too." He looked around again. "And you have no idea why?"
"No."
"Hmm. You would think the guy would have made it clear what it was for, unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless he thought you would remember."
That's not what he was going to say.
She decided to go straight to the point. "Jethro, you don't think this is a potential problem, do you? They're just flowers."
"No, Jen - I don't think it's a problem, just a mystery."
Gibbs left the Director's office and returned to his desk, preoccupied, but not so preoccupied that he didn't notice agents DiNozzo and McGee arguing and headslap them. When he sat down, his thoughts returned to the flower-strewn office on the floor above. His gut was telling him something was very wrong.
"David." He beckoned her to come closer to his desk, then showed her a piece of paper on which he had written "Beltway Florists - flowers for NCIS Director Shepard."
"I want you to check this out," he said quietly.
She raised her eyes to meet his, the surprise evident. "I do not understand, Gibbs."
He looked exasperated. "Someone sent flowers to the director from 11 different florists in the DC area. I want to know who and why. Is that clear?"
She nodded, taking the piece of paper, then picked up her backpack and left without a word.
"I'm sorry, ma'm... "
"Ms. David."
"I'm sorry, Ms. David. The flowers were purchased with cash."
"Give me a description of the person who ordered them." The clerk hesitated, so Ziva added, "Now."
"I'm trying to remember. I think she had blonde hair..."
"She?"
"Yes. Blonde hair, with brown in it - they used to call it 'dishwater blonde.'"
"What is that?"
"Dishwater blonde," the clerk repeated. "You know, like dirty dishwater."
"Ugh," Ziva said under her breath.
"It's not that bad. It just means a mixture of brown and blonde."
"How long was her hair? How was it styled?"
"About shoulder length, loose." The woman paused to think. "She looked like she was in her late 30's."
"Any other features? Glasses? Eye color? Clothing?"
"No glasses. I didn't see her eyes, really. I think she was wearing a dark green blouse, and maybe jeans. That's all I remember."
"Did she have an accent?"
"Yes, actually, she did. She sounded, I don't know, Scandinavian? Maybe Russian. Something like that."
"Did she sign the card herself?"
"No, she told me what to write."
Ziva sighed. Not much to go on - why couldn't people be more observant? She took out an NCIS business card. "If she comes back, call us at that number and ask for Special Agent Gibbs."
"Okay."
As soon as Ziva had started the car, she reported back to Gibbs. "It's not much," she concluded.
"No, it isn't."
"I suspect the woman bought the flowers on someone else's behalf."
"Ya think, Ziva? Go to the Lincoln Memorial Florists and find out if the description matches."
"Yes, Gibbs. Do you have a case yet?"
"No, but even if we did, I want you to pursue this. Unless you have a problem with that, Officer David?"
Ziva hesitated. She did, in fact, have a problem with it, because she knew he was using her to spy on Jenny. But she replied, "No."
He hung up, and she started to drive off, but her mind was torn between her boss and her friend; where did her first loyalty lie?
About a block away, she pulled into a car park and dialed Jenny's number.
"Shepard."
"Jenny, this is Ziva."
"Is something wrong, Ziva?" Jenny had immediately picked up on the Mossad officer's flat tone of voice, the one she used when she was hiding something.
"I don't know. But... I thought I should tell you that Gibbs has me going to florists to ask about the person who sent you the flowers."
There was a silence so long that Ziva thought the call had been dropped. "Jenny, are you still there?"
"Yes." Now Jenny had adopted that flatness of tone. "Thank you for the information, Ziva. Continue with your assignment."
"Shalom."
The longer Jenny sat thinking about it, the angrier she became. He shouldn't have - he had no right - even if it was to protect her, he could have said something. He should have said something. Ideally, he should have asked her first. But that would go against his stupid rule 18...
She weighed her options. Should she confront him now, or pretend she didn't know so that she could get more information first?
She looked around at her flowers again, and an unexpected chill went up her spine. Something was wrong; she could feel it. Let Jethro investigate, she told herself. Then you'll know if you have a reason to worry.
For most of the day she was busy in MTAC, and she knew Gibbs' team had a case, so they didn't see each other. She forgot about being angry until she returned to her office and found him sitting on her sofa, spreading out place settings and uncorking a bottle of red wine.
"You must have found out what the occasion was, Jethro," she smiled, slipping off her heels.
He looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," she said, sitting in the chair with her feet tucked under her. "Pour me some wine, Jethro; it's been a long day."
He didn't say anything while he poured the wine and dished out the salad, tortellini with mushroom sauce, and sauteed asparagus. Then he looked at her with one eyebrow lifted.
She took a bite of her tortellini and closed her eyes blissfully. "Mmm, this is delicious." Opening her eyes, she noticed his eyebrow. "What?"
"What were you saying?"
She smiled secretively. "What did Ziva find out? Did she have time to go to all of the florists, or does she need to finish tomorrow?"
He stared at her, the tension evident in his rigid posture, then suddenly he looked away and relaxed a little. "She called you?"
Jenny nodded, her mouth full of asparagus.
"I should have known," he said, with some annoyance. "Ziva's on your team, not mine."
"That's not true, Jethro," Jenny argued. "She felt I should know that you were snooping behind my back. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Rule 18," he answered roughly, then downed his wine in one gulp.
"I didn't say 'ask,' I said 'tell.' To be honest..." Jenny hesitated.
"What?"
"I've been a little nervous myself." She grinned. "Otherwise, I would have had your ass on a plate by now."
He bypassed her confession and raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Is that what you want?"
"No! Now tell me what you found out."
"A woman ordered the flowers. Different appearances, but Ziva thinks it could have been the same woman. Probably ordered them for someone else."
"Well, yeah, probably a man."
"Gee, why didn't I think of that?"
"What's next?"
He shrugged. "Wait and see, I guess. Unless you can think of someone who might..."
Jenny had a troubled expression, which she wiped it away when he looked up at her. "No. But I'll tell you if I have any ideas."
