A/N: This is set sometime around Baltimore in season eight, which is when I started writing it. Try to cast your minds back to that period when you read it. It goes AU pretty early on, but uses general storylines from the show as a base.
Forgive the long author's notes, but I feel a few warnings are necessary before we start. Particularly for those people who follow me because of my happy, love-filled, fluffy Tiva fics.
Warning 1: This is not a happy, love-filled, fluffy Tiva fic. There will be fighting, anger and significant angst, but also respect and hard-won love. Love—romantic and platonic—between T/Z is still key.
Warning 2: This is NOT a McGiva fic. No way. Their friendship is extremely important to the story, but there's no romance. So don't freak out in Chapter 1.
Warning 3: Both Ray and EJ are involved, but I'm not painting them as the bad guys any more than the show did back in season eight. See warning 1.
Warning 4: There are some swear words used. I know some people don't like that, but I don't feel like they're particularly gratuitous. And they're not used frequently.
Still with me? Try it out. And a big thanks to a bunch of people who looked at this at various stages and provided invaluable advice: Rigil Kent, JMHaughey, jsq79 and erickavv.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
CHAPTER 1
The thing about getting Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs angry was that you could never predict how he was going to make you pay.
This was the thought that was bouncing around Tony DiNozzo's head while he sat at his desk, watching the clock tick through his lunch break. Sometimes when you angered him, retribution came in the form of a swift, sharp smack to the head. Sometimes you got a steely-eyed glare that forced you to correct yourself. Sometimes he'd send you to clean the men's room floor with a toothbrush. And sometimes, if he was feeling extra-super malicious, he would make you wait days for punishment, relying on the psychological damage of anticipation to tear you down and make you beg for forgiveness.
In the ten years that Tony had worked with Gibbs he'd come to prefer the quick, swift head slap. Although it technically amounted to workplace bullying and assault, the slap meant that all was forgiven and the slate was clean. It meant that life could continue as normal without grudges or festering disappointment or guilt. The slap was clean, efficient and quick.
When Tony had arrived at work late that morning, he'd expected nothing more than a slap. After all, it was only a minor offense in the Little Black Book of Gibbs' Law. But when he'd jogged to his desk 20 minutes late and was met with an icy glare that made him literally recoil, he knew he was in for a little more than the Gibbs equivalent of three Hail Marys.
His penance turned out to be a full day of listening to calls to the Port-to-Port killer tip line. Technically they had 'people' to do this kind of work for them. What kind of people, Tony wasn't exactly sure. All he knew was that the tip line was usually handled by some unseen team of gremlins sitting somewhere in the bowels of the building, who would feed viable leads through to the very special agents. Before today, Tony hadn't given those gremlins much thought. Now he was thinking of lobbying Vance on their behalf for a pay rise.
He skipped a message from a caller who was trying to pin the murders on a recent surge in vampire numbers, and then started digging through his desk drawers. It was past lunch, his stomach was grumbling, and none of his team members had offered to grab him a burger when they went out. He thought he'd left some Reece's Pieces in his desk last week, but the peanut butter treats were gone. He sighed in disappointment and then craned his neck to try to see if EJ was at her desk—surely the girlfriend was duty bound to make a trip to the deli for him?—but his eyes instead fell on Abby charging towards him.
Normally the most eye-catching thing about Abby was her spiked dog collar. Today, it was her expression of determination. He watched her with a curious frown as she stood between the four desks belonging to Team Gibbs and spun around like she was checking for witnesses. Finding none, she stepped up to Tony's desk and, eyebrow arched and jaw set, crossed her arms over her chest.
Tony paused the tip line recordings and pulled out his earphones. "What's wrong?"
With almost ninja speed, Abby planted her hands on Tony's desk and stuck her face within inches of his. Tony pulled his head back in surprise, but before he had a chance to question her Caf-Pow! intake his friend was talking at double-Abby-time.
"What's going on with McGee and Ziva?" she demanded.
Tony stared at her as he tried to make his brain work on Abby Speed. He failed. "What?"
Abby pushed her face closer again and narrowed suspicious green eyes. "Are they dating?"
The question was so ridiculous and so unexpected that Tony could do little more than gape at her. "Guh?" he grunted.
The topic had clearly been on Abby's mind for some time, and the fact that Tony seemed to be taking so long to catch up to her train of thought appeared to be trying her patience. "Ziva," she said slowly.
"Yes."
"And McGee," she continued.
"Okay…"
"Are sitting in a tree," she rhymed. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."
Tony shook his suddenly spinning head. "No," he said firmly.
Abby stood up straight again, satisfied that she'd made her point, and recrossed her arms. "You haven't noticed how chummy they are lately?"
"Ziva and McGee?" he echoed, understanding what she was trying to say, if not jumping on board. "Abby, no. That goes against God and science. There's no way that's happening."
"I would have thought so too, but now I'm not so sure." She dropped her hip onto the corner of his desk and planted the thick toe of her platform shoe into the side of his chair. "Every time I talk to him lately, it's 'Me and Ziva did this,' and 'Me and Ziva talked about that,' and 'Ziva thinks that blah blah blah.' It's all about Ziva. Every time." She cocked her head in question. "Has she been talking to you about him?"
Tony's eyes wandered to Ziva's empty desk as his thoughts ran rampant. "No," he said slowly. "We haven't talked much since…" He trailed off as that weird feeling of betrayal he got whenever he thought about Ziva and EJ in connection to each other filled his stomach. He cleared his throat and looked back at his friend. "Abby, I'm sure nothing's going on. There's no way that could happen right under my nose and I wouldn't know about it."
Abby's expression didn't speak to her confidence in his argument. "Where are they now?"
"Went out to get some lunch."
"Together?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "They left together, but—"
"Did you know they had dinner last night?" Abby cut in.
"So?" he shrugged. "Me and Ziva used to have dinner all the time."
Abby nodded like that proved her point, rather than debunked it. "Exactly. And they've had dinner three other times this week."
"Dinner means nothing," Tony insisted. Even though he was kind of out of the loop with what was going on in his friends' lives there days, he still couldn't make himself give legs to this theory. It was too…icky.
But Abby persisted. "It does if you're doing it four times a week. McGee and I used to go out at least that often when we were dating. And how often do you go out with EJ?"
Tony scratched his chin as he thought that over. "Not that much," he admitted, and then rushed to defend their relationship. "We're both pretty busy. She's tracking a serial killer, you know? And I work for Gibbs so…"
Abby's eyes wandered over to McGee's desk as she swung her foot back into Tony's chair. "I don't know, Tony," she sighed. "They're spending a lot of time together. And they're laughing and going for runs together and—"
"Abby," he said firmly, trying out the tone Gibbs always used to calm her down. "It's your imagination. They're friends. Good friends. That's all."
Abby twisted her lips to the side as she weighed Tony's assurances against her own beliefs. Then she sighed heavily and slumped her shoulders, and Tony figured that she was putting her theory to bed. Her eyes travelled across his earphones and notepad, and then around the empty bullpen.
"So, what sin did you commit against our silver haired pack leader?" she asked.
Tony breathed out a laugh at her ability to put two and two together. "Got in late."
Abby cocked her head to the side. "Why were you late?"
He couldn't suppress the grin that slid across his face. "It was EJ's fault."
Abby gave him a vaguely disappointed look in response. "Tony, you didn't tell Gibbs that, right?"
Tony shook his head. "No, of course not. But his Gibbs Sense was obviously firing on all cylinders this morning, or else I would have gotten off with a slap instead of being sent to the seventh ring of hell known as the tip line."
"Port-to-Port?" Abby asked. "It's not even really our case."
Tony forced a smile. "Gibbs made sure to point out it would be of great help to Agent Barrett."
Abby shot him a sympathetic wince. "He's still pissed about the rule breaking, huh?"
He gestured at his computer monitor. "Five hours of listening to crackpots trying to pin the murders on Ghost Osama and aliens lead me to believe that yes, he is still pissed."
She reached over to pat his head. "There there," she soothed. "He'll get over it. Anything good yet?"
"No," Tony said, and then held up the notebook he'd been doodling on. "Unless you count this awesome drawing of a dinosaur I did."
Abby peered at the blue ink and scrunched her nose. "That's a dinosaur?"
Tony's proud smile fell a little. "It's a T-Rex," he said obviously.
She frowned at him. "T-Rex didn't have wings, Tony."
Tony turned the paper around and stared at the drawing with a critical eye. "You sure?"
"I'm a scientist," she pointed out.
Tony scoffed. "Yeah, but a forensic scientist." He smiled up at her, but when Abby gave him her most neutral face in response, he quickly backpedalled. "Which is also very impressive."
Abby stuck her tongue in her cheek like she was holding back a nasty retort, and the snatched the notepad out of his hands. She turned it and shoved it in his face. "I may be just a forensic scientist with a Masters degree and a Bachelors in chemistry, but I can tell you that this?" She dropped the notepad into his lap. "This is not a T-Rex. It's a dragon."
Tony picked up the notepad again. "It's a pretty cool dragon, though."
"Oh, yeah," she nodded genuinely. "It's great."
His stomach grumbled loudly, and he winced before reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. "Abigail, do you love me enough to go to that deli down the street and grab me a pastrami on rye?" He pulled ten bucks out of his wallet and held it out to her, and then gave her his most pathetic look.
Abby plucked the note from his fingers and slid off his desk. "You need only ask," she said.
"So, you're over the other thing?" he asked as she rounded the back of his desk.
She paused as she tucked Tony's note into her the pocket of her pants. "Nope," she told him. "But I hope you're right. Because if they are dating, Ziva's going to eat him alive. And then? Then I'm going to have to kill her." She gave him a sweet smile, then turned on her heel and marched off to the elevator.
As Tony watched her go, a heavy feeling settled in his chest. The idea of McGee and Ziva in a romantic relationship felt wrong on so many levels, but now that Abby had mentioned it the two of them did seem a little chummier than normal. He honestly had no idea whether they were spending much time together outside of work, but they had been talking more in the bullpen. Sharing jokes, ganging up on Tony, helping each other out and acknowledging each other's work. And Gibbs had been sending Ziva out with McGee a lot more in situations where he'd normally send Ziva with Tony. That didn't mean there was anything romantic going on, but it would give them a lot more time to talk and get to know each other and find themselves in all manner of adrenaline-charged, sexy special agent situations.
He shook his head firmly as he found himself starting to give Abby's crazy idea traction. No, there was no way. They were just friends who'd taken to spending a lot more time with each other, and that was that.
But if that was the case and he really believed it, then what was this bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth?
Over the rest of the afternoon, Tony found himself paying attention to every exchange between his colleagues. He documented every easy smile and laugh from Ziva, every grin and blush from McGee, every look of fondness and camaraderie that passed between them. If he was a paranoid man, or perhaps even as excitable as Abby, Tony might have given those looks some weight. Yes, that joke of McGee's had sounded more like an attempt at flirting. And yes, that look of Ziva's was the one she used to favor Tony with that always made him wonder. But Tony was determined to keep a level head about this and rely on hard facts. And the facts told him that there was nothing going on.
He had convinced himself that he had enough evidence to take to Abby to prove their innocence. That was until 1800 rolled around and Ziva returned from a quick trip to the bathroom with touched up makeup and neatened up hair.
"Ready, Tim?" she sang out as she leant over her desk and shut down her computer.
McGee pushed his chair back and stood. "Let's go," he said. He switched off his monitor and grabbed his coat and backpack, and then headed over to Ziva.
Tony eyed them suspiciously while McGee hovered at her desk and Ziva wrestled with an uncooperative coat sleeve. "And what are my probies up to this evening?" he asked casually.
Ziva finally got her arm in the sleeve and threw him a shrugged shoulder. "Just having a drink."
Tony leant over his desk. "What's the occasion? Did one of McGee's chest hairs finally come through?"
McGee shot him his patented I'm being nice even if you're being an ass smile. "No occasion. Just having a drink."
Ziva slid her backpack over her shoulder. "You are welcome to join us."
Tony's eyes wandered over the partition behind her for signs of EJ, his date for the night. "No, I've got—"
It was as far as he got before McGee and Ziva both nodded like his refusal was a foregone conclusion and started off towards the elevator.
"Night, then," McGee called.
Tony felt a little stab of jealousy and what felt suspiciously like abandonment as he watched his friends head off without him. But it only lasted a moment. His refusal to join them was a foregone conclusion. He had a different focus now, one that he was excited about and wanted to explore. He was never going to be able to give his relationship with EJ the attention it needed to grow if he was bailing on her to hang out with McGee and Ziva. Especially Ziva.
So it was fine that the two of them were now smiling over some private joke as they waited for the elevator to arrive. And it was fine that Tony would never know what it was that McGee said that made her throw her head back and laugh. But it was less fine when he saw McGee reach out to flip her hair out from under her collar, and by the time he ran his hand down Ziva's spine to rest in the small of her back, alarm bells were ringing.
Jesus Christ, what the hell were they doing?
"Got you dinner."
Ziva looked at the bag of pretzels that McGee dropped onto the table in front of her. When she'd said she was feeling peckish her thoughts had been running more along the lines of a steak. But given that they were in a semi-dingy cop bar, pretzels were as good as it was going to get.
She picked up the packet and pointed at the label. "With herbs," she read. "McGee, you know how to make a woman feel special."
He grinned at her and slid onto the stool across the table, and then handed her one of the beer bottles he'd carried from the bar. "I would've gotten you the tomato flavored ones, but they were all out."
Ziva tore open the packet, plucked out a pretzel and left the packet in between them. "Did Tony seem sort of…funny to you?"
McGee went for the easy joke. "I'm pretty sure he's mostly only funny to himself."
She kicked him gently under the table. "I meant strange."
McGee shrugged. "Not really." He watched her as she chewed on a pretzel and looked thoughtful. "You think he wanted to come?"
"No," she shook her head. "I think he was looking forward to his plans."
"With EJ," McGee elaborated, just to see how Ziva would react. When he got her Mossad-grade poker face in return, he figured that meant she was annoyed. "So, you still don't like her?"
Ziva shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I do not not like her," she said. "In fact, I am not sure how I feel about her."
McGee cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Really."
Ziva's eyes fell to the bottle in her hand, and McGee tried to read the subtleties in her expression. Six years should have been long enough to learn what a friend's tightened lip and barely creased brow meant, but Ziva wasn't an ordinary friend. She was a Mossad-trained assassin who had been taught to hide her feelings. Gibbs and Tony had somehow managed to crack the code over the years, but McGee still too frequently found himself without a clue.
After a few silent moments, Ziva leant forward a little and glanced up at him. "She reminds me of Jenny," she admitted.
Both of McGee's eyebrows went up. He hadn't come close to that comparison before, but now that he thought about it he could see some resemblances. They were two strong-willed, ambitious women determined to prove themselves to their male superiors and subordinates. But the same could be said about a hell of a lot of women out there, Ziva included. And there was one glaring point of difference.
"You were friends with Jenny," he pointed out.
Ziva nodded as a small, almost bittersweet smile crossed her face. "Yes. For a time we were very close. We relied on each other on several missions and I trusted her." The smile faded and she shook her head. "But when I came to NCIS I saw a different side to her. I saw how single-minded and ruthless she could be. How self-serving."
McGee's thoughts wandered to the La Grenoille mission that had almost gotten Tony killed, had certainly broken his heart, and had Jenny breaking federal laws left, right and centre. It had ended in a nightmare that none of them wanted to relive. But he doubted something like that was in EJ's plans.
"You don't think EJ's going to turn out like that, do you?" he asked. Despite her comment from moments ago, McGee was pretty sure that EJ was fairly high on Ziva's current foe list. There was a big, Tony-shaped reason for that, and McGee wasn't going to blame Ziva for feeling hurt. But he didn't want to let Ziva get away with inventing more plausible-sounding reasons for disliking the woman just because she couldn't admit the real reason to anyone but herself.
But Ziva shook her head. "No." She clicked her tongue with frustration. "I don't know. She just reminds me of Jenny."
McGee tipped his beer bottle towards her. "Maybe if you got to know her, then you'd like her."
Ziva shot him the most disgusted look he'd seen in some time. "You get to know her," she threw back.
He smirked at the sudden animation in her face, an alarming contrast to her careful neutrality from moments ago. But he made it clear whose 'side' he was on. "I have enough friends."
Ziva smiled at him gratefully and then dropped the topic. "How are things with Maxine?"
He sighed as a twinge of disappointment shot through him. He'd been seeing Maxine, a hot blonde gamer he'd met on a case for a little over a month. But when he'd had to cut their last date short to attend a scene, he'd seen a look in her eye that he'd seen on plenty of dates in the past. It was a look that said she wasn't comfortable with being number two to his job.
"I think we're over," he told her.
Ziva pursed her lips. "What is her problem?"
"Same as usual," he said with a shrug. "Doesn't like being ditched for a dead guy."
Ziva pursed her lips, and that was one expression that McGee could read. As far as he knew, all of Ziva's past boyfriends had been involved in law enforcement or the military. She'd never had a problem with them not understanding that her job came first because it was the same for them. And he knew that she found it hard to understand why so many civilians couldn't accept the pecking order.
"Well," she began with a philosophical tone, "if it was meant to be you will find a way to work out your difficulties. Normally I would tell you to cut her loose and find someone who appreciated your commitment to protecting the men and women who protect our country—"
"Ziva," he sighed, warning her that he'd already heard that argument from her 100 times too many.
"—but in this case," Ziva went on, "I will just say that I think you should work on things with her. I think there is something there worth pursuing."
McGee nodded. He did too. But that didn't change things. "Yeah, but I can't force her into it, Ziva," he said. "I mean, let's look at this logically. She's a hot young woman living in geek boy world. She doesn't need to wait around for me to make time to see her. She's got hundreds of other options."
Ziva wagged her finger at him. "You are selling yourself thin."
"Short."
"Yes, fine. Short," she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "You are a handsome, intelligent, kind and loyal man, McGee. And you have a lot in common with this woman. If she is smart she will want to see more of you and make some allowances for your responsibilities." She stabbed her finger against the table. "But you should make more of an effort to see her."
McGee sighed. "Yeah, but this is just the beginning part where it's supposed to be easy and fun. And it's already hard work."
"I thought you said she was easy to be with."
"Yeah, she is," he nodded. "When I'm with her, it's easy. And I'm comfortable with her."
Ziva snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "A-ha!" she said triumphantly. "You are comfortable with her."
McGee frowned at her, not sure why she was so pleased by that. "I don't follow."
She sighed, and McGee couldn't help but think she was disappointed that he didn't immediately understand her. "Comfortable, McGee, is hard to find," she lectured. "It is rare to find a person who you can be yourself with. Your real self, faults and all. And to remain confident that even if they see all those parts of you that you do not like, they will still accept you and want to be with you." She caught her thoughts just as they started to run away from her and took a calming breath. "Do you feel that way about Maxine?"
McGee slid his bottle back and forth between his hands as he thought it over. "I think maybe I could, one day soon."
Ziva nodded knowingly. "Then you should make more time to see her."
He smiled at her. "Okay. I promise."
"Good."
He eyed her as she sipped her beer and wondered about the root of her speech. "Have you spoken to Ray yet?"
"No," she replied, her tone clipped and not inviting further discussion.
McGee ignored the warning. "Why not?"
Her gaze fell away from his. "I do not know what to say to him yet that is not an expletive," she muttered. "I have nothing useful to say."
"Can't say something nice, don't say anything at all, huh?"
"Yes."
McGee didn't let her get away with that. "Well, that works when you're five, Ziva. But not when you're a grown-up and trying to work out problems with your boyfriend."
Ziva sniffed and muttered into her beer bottle. "Who said I want to work out our problems? Maybe I want to close the door on him for good."
He looked at her carefully. "Is that what you want to do?"
She tapped the bottle against her chin as she thought it over. "I am not sure," she finally said, and then pointedly looked away from him. That was another expression of hers that McGee was familiar with. Conversation over.
He intended to let her have it after he made one more comment. "You can't ignore him forever, Ziva."
She nodded as a suspicious wet glint filled her eyes. "I know," she said softly. "I just need some more time."
Repeat: Not a McGiva fic. See? They're just friends.
