Tony hadn't spoken to her in nearly a month. Not a word. Granted, they hadn't had a real conversation since he'd witnessed her altercation with Ziva, but in the weeks that followed they'd at least interacted professionally on the case.

Barrett had assumed they'd work out whatever was between them when the case was done and they didn't have to worry about Gibbs' ridiculous rules. But the case had been closed for over a month, and he'd barely even looked at her.

So when she spied him getting into an empty elevator late one night, she slipped smoothly in after him. Before he could protest the doors closed, and she flipped the car into an emergency stop. In the dark she turned on him, only to find him deliberately looking anywhere but at her.

"What did I do?" she asked fiercely, fiery anger coloring her tone. He didn't respond, nor did he bother to look her way. "You don't call, you don't email—hell you won't even look at me. I think I have the right to know why you're pissed at me!"

Finally, hazel eyes that had once been oh-so-charming fell on her, with nothing but shadowed contempt in their depths.

"I have nothing to say to you," he delivered, his words dull, and heavy as a ton of bricks. He reached for the emergency switch, but she batted his hand away.

"Actually, I think you do," she countered. "You've been avoiding me, and I want to know why."

"You wanna know why? I gotta tell you?" he asked incredulously. "I can't believe you—I can't believe me. I actually thought there was something special about you." His lips split into a grin, but it was anything but mirthful. "Boy, do I feel sheepish!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Barrett fired back. "What did I do?"

"An act of god."

His words settled heavily on her shoulders. His eyes pierced hers, searching for something, anything.

"…apparently," he tacked on somberly. He paused, as did she, regarding each other silently. In the end, she was the one to let him continue, having nothing to offer.

"You didn't get her badge, but you sure as hell did everything but." He shook his head in disbelief. "You sure are a woman who likes to get what she wants… and get rid of what she doesn't."

"Well, what I want right now is for you to stop talking in goddamn circles."

"Ziva!" he shouted, his temper flaring, breaking through his control. But just as quickly as he erupted, he reined himself back in. "You really hated her that much? Why? Because she called you out on your superiority complex?"

Barrett's brows furrowed in confusion. "Ziva? What about her?"

"You honestly want me to believe you had nothing to do with this? Because last I checked, you're the one who'd been working hand-in-hand with the CIA on the P2P case. I bet you had all the right connections—hell, you probably have their Director on speed dial too!"

"What the hell are you talking about? What does the CIA have to do with anything?"

Tony blinked. He looked at her for a long moment, then rocked back on his heels, most of his fight disappearing.

"Ziva was reassigned to the CIA the day of your award ceremony, courtesy of your friend Director Vance. She went to Langley a month ago, and we haven't heard from her for three weeks. Last email she sent told us not to worry if she was out of touch for a while."

Barrett stood there, unable to form any words through the surprise that crashed over her. But after a long moment, Tony scoffed a half-hearted laugh.

"You know what really gets me?" he asked. "I actually believe you had nothing to do with this. If you had, your eyes wouldn't have lit up like they just did." His voice was sad—disappointed even. But whether he was disappointed in her or himself, Barrett couldn't tell.

"What—"

"You didn't even notice she hadn't been in the office for a month… Jesus—you damn near stare at her every day the way you turned your desk around. Some investigator," he muttered.

"Hey!"

"You really are a piece of work, you know that? I can't even remember what it was I saw in you…" He reached for the switch again, but yet again, she blocked him from ending the conversation.

"Will you just wait a minute?" she demanded furiously. "Don't I get to say anything?"

"No." His voice was low, nearly menacing, and when he stepped into her space—just as Ziva had done so many weeks ago—she could not help but step back in response, yielding to his intensity. "No, you don't get to say a goddamn thing. You've had your chance. Hell, you've had dozens of chances, and you blew every damn one of them."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that every time you could have redeemed yourself, you chose to dig yourself deeper. You thought Ziva had information, but instead of acting like an adult, you chased after her and started an altercation that put her on the Director's chopping block. You went up against Gibbs at every turn on this case for the pure sake of butting heads, just to be able to prove you've made your bones. And when we finally close the damn case, you go to bat for you and yours, all the while leaving us in the dust!"

He glared at her fiercely, his hazel eyes burning with anger. "Did you even realize that if it weren't for us, you would've been content to collar a trust fund drug dealer for the murders, leaving the real killer to do god knows how much more damage? Even now, if it weren't for Ziva you'd still be trying to the blood out of the pavement while the victim's family got no more closure than a bullet-ridden corpse?"

"Yeah, I do—"

"Really? You do?" he fired back. "Because watching your little press junket of an awards ceremony, it looked suspiciously like the EJ Barrett show. Every word out of your mouth that day was all about you, you, you. I'm actually surprised you let your team share the stage with you, for all you barely included them in your speech." He took another step forward. "But I sure as hell didn't hear you so much as mention that you'd been collaborating with another team."

He paused, hurt suddenly coloring his gaze. He turned away, moved to put some distance between them. When he turned back around, he regarded her balefully.

"You know," he started huskily, "if you'd even hinted at Ziva's role in the investigation, it might not have been so easy for Vance to moonlight her out to the CIA… to force her back into the life she gave up everything to escape from."

Barrett stared, her mouth working soundlessly for several moments before she managed to say absolutely anything.

"I… I didn't realize…"

He huffed mirthlessly, his eyes cold once more. "Yeah. I know you didn't." His gaze turned cool and collected, once more the professional agent that he was. But he never once dropped her gaze, and the eye contact only made his next words hit home all the harder.

"That's the difference between being a team leader… and not."

He reached around her dumbfounded frame to flip the emergency switch up, and the doors opened unceremoniously. He gave her one last glance as he turned to exit.

"I'll take the stairs," he said drolly, leaving her alone and speechless in an empty elevator.