Title: Do What You Have
To Do
Fandom: NCIS
Characters: Ziva David,
Timothy McGee
Word Count: 680
Rating: PG.
Author's Notes:
Friendship, possibly romance. "Jeopardy" post-episode.
He told her he knew what it felt like, to have no one trust you, to be doing absolutely nothing while the rest of the team scrambled around searching for answers, looking like panicked chickens about to be slaughtered. He just knelt down by her desk and said he understood. That he held out his hand and offered his support meant something to her, and that's why she accepted when he offered to buy her a drink after work.
The ride to the bar was silent, but comfortable. McGee was driving, because he didn't want to worry about ending up inside the bar before the left the car. Ziva sat in the passenger seat, drumming her fingertips on her thigh and staring at the lit buildings they passed. McGee stole a glance at her once, and deduced from the stiff line in which her mouth was set that she likely wasn't up for chit chat.
Once they reached the bar, McGee turned off the ignition and listened as the car sputter into silence before turning to Ziva. "You okay?" he asked.
Ziva didn't look at him, but instead motioned to the bar. "Never heard of this place."
McGee sighed and shrugged off his seat belt. "Yeah, uh, I found out about it when Abby and I were..."
Ziva finally turned to face him. "You know, I always wondered about that."
He closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them again. Ziva was still looking at him with that questioning look that made her look like a child. "Um, this is no time to be talking about me or Abby or me and Abby or anything involving either one of us. Let's just forget about work."
Ziva nodded. "Fine. Right. No work."
He sighed. "If you want to go home, I can..."
She laid a hand on his arm. "No, no. It's very sweet of you to take me out like this, McGee. I appreciate it."
He smiled. "Okay, then. Let's go in." He exited the car and rushed around to the other side to open Ziva's door for her, but she had, of course, already left the car and was walking into the bar. McGee cursed himself for not being fast enough and jogged to catch up with her.
Rich teak wood covered the walls of the joint, and a solid bar of the same material sat near the front of the building. Ziva had no problem strutting up to the bar and plopping herself on a leather stool near the middle of the room. McGee was a little more apprehensive, even though he had been there before, and sat down only after Ziva had decided where they would sit, and motioned for the bartender with a wave of his hand.
"I'll have a vodka sour," he told the bartender, and then looked to Ziva. "And she'll have..."
"Scotch, no ice," she said without hesitation.
McGee jolted a little. "Wow, quite a drink."
Ziva shrugged. "Sometimes it helps to have something to numb the pain." She looked away from him then, like she had just revealed an important piece of intel.
He furrowed his eyebrows. "You sure you're okay? Because if you're not, maybe you shouldn't be drinking..."
McGee was cut off by Ziva's arms wrapping around him in a huge bear hug.
"Ziva?" He heard her intake a deep breath, a soft puff of air moving across the side of his neck.
"Thank you," she said, and released him once again. "No one else...no one else took the time to ask if I was okay. I wasn't. I didn't show that, but I wasn't okay. And you knew that. So, thank you, Tim, for caring."
He smiled. "It's no problem, Ziva," he said, and decided to take a chance and place his hand on hers. She looked at him with questioning eyes. "I do what I can for my...friends."
Ziva closed her eyes and smiled. "Yes, yes, I see that."
The bartender brought their drinks, McGee slapped a twenty on the bar, and they sipped in companionable silence.
