"Your meals will be out shortly." the waiter turned away from the table that the three NCIS agents were seated around.
It seemed like it was criminal-hibernation season. There hadn't been any major cases in at least a month. That's what gave Tony, Ziva, and McGee time to go out for lunch that day at Co-Co's café, a new place that had opened up only a few blocks away from NCIS headquarters. They'd chosen to seat themselves out on the patio, beneath the large umbrella protruding from one of the tables. It was hot out, just like it had been for the past week or so. Because of this, Ziva was fanning herself with her hand.
"I am sweating like a hen." Ziva sighed, leaning forwards as if the shade grew cooler the closer one got to the umbrella.
"Pig, Ziva." McGee corrected her, "Sweating like a pig."
"I do not care!" She snapped at him. The heat had been making Ziva irritable all week. It was doing that to a lot of people. "The point is, I am hot."
"Speaking of hot…" Tony mumbled while a blonde waitress walked past the table, her too-short skirt swishing around her thighs as she swayed her hips. He wasn't really speaking to anyone else at the table. It seemed to be that he was speaking more to some secret alter-ego of his, who was apparently just as obsessed with the female anatomy as he was.
Ziva reached over, hitting Tony's arms but letting out one of her laughs that seemed to be growing increasingly rare this week. Tony gave her a smile before turning his attention to Tim whose interest had been pulled away from the table by his cell phone. Abby had text messaged him. Quick as a flash, Tony reached over and snatched the phone out of his hands.
"What do you got here, Probie?" he asked, his eyes scanning across the screen.
From: Abby
Can you give me a ride home tonight, Timmy? My car's at my place.
The phone was handed to Ziva who read the message before giving it back to McGee who was leaning over the table, trying to snatch it back. His ears had gained a red tint while Tony chuckled at him.
"Oh yes, you and Abby came to work together." Ziva said, recalling seeing the two walk into the NCIS building just as she locked her car doors that morning.
"Forgetting rule number twelve, Probie?"
"We're not dating." McGee rolled his eyes and busied himself with responding to Abby.
Their waiter interrupted them then, setting three different beverages in front of their respected agents. They all took a few moments to take their first few sips before Tony picked the conversation back up.
"I think sleeping with co-workers falls under the same rule." he said.
Tim was quick with his protest of, "We didn't sleep together!" he took a deep breath, calming himself. "We ran into each other last night, at a bar. We were just going to get something to eat, but we ended up having a few drinks. I didn't want her driving, so she stayed over at my house. On my couch. There, happy Tony? Do you need the rest of my life story with that?"
"You're getting defensive, McGee." Ziva pointed out. She wasn't looking up at Tim though, she was staring down at the soda in front of her like it had just sprouted legs and was getting ready to hop away. "This is diet soda." She said disapprovingly. "I did not ask for diet soda." She turned her head, looking around until she spotted the waiter. Her attempts to wave him over to their table were all in vain as he just glanced at her then walked in the opposite direction.
Tony and McGee threw each other a nervous glance as Ziva's eyes turned to two slits on her face, glaring at the café door that the waiter had just disappeared through. The Israeli woman stood up from her seat suddenly. The hot sun had her hair falling limply from it's hair tie and beads of sweat clinging to both her forehead and the skin of her upper chest that her white tank top left exposed. Tony reached over to her, knowing she could have a temper sometimes but also knowing what the heat had been doing to her lately. Irritability could possibly lead to bad decisions, and nobody wanted bad decisions being made. Especially not by a trained assassin. His clammy hand gripped one of hers and she looked down at him with one sharp jerk of her head. Immediately he retracted his hand, clearing his throat ,then trying to change the subject.
"So, our food should be out soon." he said.
Ziva ignored him, grabbing her glass off of the table in a manner that caused some of the diet soda to slosh over the edge of it, splashing onto the table before a few drops bounced up to hit both of the men she'd been seated with. "I will be back in a moment." she informed the two before striding away, and entering café.
Tim grabbed a few napkins from the dispenser next to the umbrella's pole and began to wipe up the mess that Ziva had made. Tony leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto it's back two legs and rocking himself in a leisurely manner.
"Think she'll kill him?" he asked, interlocking his fingers behind his head with his arms in a position that looked like he was about to do a few sit-ups.
"She's Ziva." was McGee's response. "No way to know."
"Think we should go in and make sure she doesn't?"
"He was a jerk…"
Just then the café door was once again opened. The two men expected to see Ziva walking out, a triumphant look on her face and her new soda grasped in her hand, possibly a bit of blood on her shirt. It wasn't Ziva however. It was their waiter, carrying three plates towards their table.
"Here we are." he said, setting down the plates then walking away quickly to another table.
McGee was ready to push his food aside and wait for Ziva's return before he started to eat. Tony wasn't as much of a gentleman. He picked up his burger and took a large bite. His cheeks bulged slightly as he chewed. Shrugging, the more polite of the gentlemen picked up one of his French fries from his plate and slipped it past his lips.
"McGee." Tony said, grabbing Tim's attention. He went on, "You eat like a wimp." With that said he grabbed several of his own fries and pushed them into his mouth all at once. After he swallowed he told Tim, "That's how men eat."
"Weird, that's how the pigs on my uncle's farm eat." McGee came back with.
Tony opened his mouth, ready to scold the probie for mouthing off, but he didn't get a chance to say anything. A shrill scream made it's way through the outside walls of Co-Co's café and met the agents' ears. Within seconds they'd abandoned their plates and were bursting through the doors of the building. That hadn't been an "Oh my goodness, you startled me" sort of scream. That was a scream that meant something was wrong. The two knew enough to know the difference between them. A crowd had formed around the doorway to one of the bathrooms. Hands readily on the guns in the holsters, McGee and Tony pushed their way through the crowd, their badges drawn.
"Special agents! Out of the way!" Tony barked, finally breaking through the last barrier of bodies and getting through the door of the womens' restroom. "Good God." his hand dropped to his side and he threw a glance over at McGee before looking back at the site before him.
Ziva lay on the floor, her arms and legs splayed in a manner that obviously meant she hadn't willingly or even knowingly laid herself like that. The blood that trickled from an unseen wound underneath her hair was pooling and flowing in a small stream across the floor, moving towards the door where her partners stood. McGee was on his knees in a flash, checking his friend's pulse and her breathing. Tony followed suit, dropping onto the floor.
"I'll take care of Ziva." He told Tim, "Check the bathroom stalls. There's no windows in here, whoever did this has gotta be hiding."
Tim nodded, pulling out his gun, moving to the closest stall, and leaning down to look for any signs of feet or a shadow before pushing it open and aiming his gun inside. There was nothing. He moved on, checking the next stall, and then the next. When he went to check the fourth stall, he saw it. Not in there though. In the stall next to it. The fifth one. Feet were planted solidly on the floor. A pair of red heeled shoes covered the feet. McGee moved to the side of the stall.
"Come out with your hands up!" he spoke clearly and loudly to the person behind the door.
Tony had removed his short sleeved shirt and carefully lifted Ziva in order to press the shirt against her head and stop the bleeding. He yelled for someone to call an ambulance before looking back at his unconscious friend. He looked up when McGee shouted at a person in one of the stalls. He was at a bad angle though, and as McGee opened the door he couldn't see inside it. Something was wrong though. He could see it in the way that Probie froze in his tracks, and slumped his shoulders. He lowered his weapon, placing it back in its holster.
"Someone in there?" Tony asked.
"Yeah." Tim responded, feeling his own face growing slightly paler.
Tony motioned for one of the onlookers to take over his spot aiding to Ziva, showing them how to hold the shirt onto her head so she didn't bleed to death. He stood up from the floor once he was sure the person was doing it right, then strode quickly over to McGee, his hand ready on his gun just by sheer instinct. There was no need for it though. He saw that when he got close enough to see what McGee was seeing. The person in the stall was no threat. If anyone asked how he knew that, he'd have to tell them that her pale face, wide, blank eyes, and the cut running across her throat that had been crudely sewn back together was a dead giveaway.
