Tony hates hospitals. He hates the constant beeping sounds, he hates the cloying antiseptic smell and he hates the bland, uniform décor. In his mind, he allows those things to bother him before he even starts trying to ignore the other memories that hospitals conjure: blue lights, blood, coughing, Kate. Hospital bracelets. Junkie sisters. Car park dates. Jeanne. He shudders as he enters the building, swallowing against the bad memories like a bitter tonic.
The touch of a soft hand brushing against his brings him back to the present, and he is immeasurably relieved when Ziva looks up from under her eyelashes with a brief smile as she walks past. Seemingly, on the journey, she has calmed down and decided to forgive him for the 'tissue incident', such as it was. In fact, her expression is almost one of reassurance – she knows full well the memories that buildings like this bring to mind for him – and he can't help the grateful smile that flitters across his face.
" DiNozzo!"
He shuffles quickly along the hall, averting his eyes from the officious people that teem through the hallways, as though if he were to make eye contact with any of them, they might decide to admit him and poke at him with all manner of sharp and shiny objects.
" Boss?"
Cocking his head towards the nurses' station, Gibbs begins speaking in a low voice, frustration clearly evident. " Apparently, investigating his assault isn't a good enough reason to release his medical records. Doctor Feingold over here says they're confidential."
" I could call Agent Lee, get a warrant," Tony suggests, already pulling his cell phone from his jacket pocket, his fingers poised to dial.
His actions are stilled by the pointed shaking of Gibbs' head, " There's not enough time for that. Ziva's getting a statement from Ryan's secretary, I need you to go over there and convince the nurses to give us that file."
" Convince them?" Tony is confused for a moment, until his eyes follow Gibbs' gaze over to the small desk. A crowd of women are huddled around it, eyeing the two men with interest and speaking in low, giggling whispers. Tony suspects a couple of the elder ones have eyes more for his boss, but a young blonde in blue scrubs is eyeing him with particular interest. " Oh," he exhales in understanding. " Uh, Boss, I would, it's just - "
" It's not a request, DiNozzo. We need that file."
With a resigned sigh, Tony nods his head and begins walking over. " Yes Boss." His Italian leather shoes squeak on the linoleum, and the sound makes him cringe.
He is about halfway across the hall when the sound of his name stops him. " Tony?"
He turns, and sees Gibbs staring after him, an almost amused smile playing across his lips. " Boss?"
" She throws you out for this, you can sleep in the basement."
The two men share a brief, understanding smile. " Might be taking you up on that."
Then, putting on his best charming smile, he takes a step towards the blonde, and silently prays that questioning the secretary will take Ziva plenty of time. The last thing he needs tonight is to sleep in the unyielding skeleton of an unfinished boat.
XxX
As it turns out, Gibbs is smart enough to stall Ziva until Tony has worked enough of his magic to get a copy of the file. Handing it over to Gibbs, his face is triumphant, even though most of the information inside of the file will have to go through a Ducky translation to de-jargon it if it is going to be at all useful. He understands the words 'fracture' and winces at the term 'sub-cranial', but the rest of it is a medical blur, and he almost for a moment wishes he had paid more attention to all the medical texts he had flicked through last year.
The rest of the afternoon in spent looking in detail at the officer's life, and Tony finds out more about Commander Charles Ryan then he really cares to know. He knows his address, phone number, and social security number. He knows the names of his parents, his siblings, his wife. Knows where he likes to play golf and where he goes for breakfast every Sunday. Knows he's toured Iraq, but not since '91, and has spent the last two years in Norfolk, working for human resources.
" Pencil pusher."
McGee and Ziva both look up from their computers at the sound of Tony assertion.
" What Tony?" McGee's eyes are slightly bloodshot, probably from looking at the screen all day in an attempt to crack into Ryan's laptop. He stretches, and from across the room, Tony can hear his back crack.
" He's a pencil pusher, McGeek. An HR lackey." Leaning back in his chair, Tony folds his arms behind his head, looking across at the younger man. " Didn't know anything sensitive, wasn't privy to any classified information. There's no reason for anyone to attack him."
" Someone had a reason DiNozzo or he wouldn't be lying in the hospital with his brain bleeding into his skull." Gibbs' voice is enough to have Tony sit bolt upright, causing Ziva to stifle an amused grin from her desk across the bullpen. He cocks an eyebrow at her – secretly happy that she looks happy – but instead of saying something, turns to talk to the older man.
" Don't know what it is yet Boss," he answers honestly.
Sitting down at his desk, Gibbs picks up his ubiquitous coffee cup and takes a long sip. " Ducky says the weapon was something heavy and metal."
The three young investigators consider that for a moment. " A hammer maybe?"
" The wound is too long and thin. A hammer would leave a deeper, more circular mark. Perhaps a crowbar."
" Where would you get a crowbar in an office?"
" Where would you get a hammer?"
" I keep one in my desk."
" You would."
Gibbs, half listening to the conversation, types into his keyboard with heavy, purposeful strokes. " Whatever it was, Ducky sent the scrapings he got from Commander Ryan's wounds down to Abby."
McGee stands up from his desk with a stretch. " I'm gonna go see if she needs any help," he says, half as a question, half as a statement, but takes off quickly when he is met with a slight nod and a dismissing wave of the hand from Gibbs.
" Just take her a Caf-Pow."
After almost ten more minutes of the remaining three flicking through papers and tapping away at screens, Gibbs speaks up from his desk. " The two of you might as well take off too."
Gibbs is met by identical surprised expressions. Tony doesn't argue, and begins to pack his things, but Ziva folds her hands in her lap and looks at him, almost confused. " I have not finished running these phone numbers," she admits, brushing a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. Inwardly, Tony curses her for her honesty. He hasn't finished running down all of the workers from Ryan's office either, but he wasn't going to admit that when Gibbs was offering them a free pass to leave the office before 10.
The surprise only escalates when Gibbs shakes his head. " They'll be there in the morning. Go home. Get some sleep." It might just be Tony's imagination, but he is almost sure that Gibbs puts extra stress on the word 'sleep'. Tony can't help but give an overly innocent 'who me?' expression, which is met by a knowing half-glare. " We've worked flat out these last couple weeks. Ryan's not dead and the doc says he's in stable condition. Go home. Rest."
" Boss - "
" It's not a request, DiNozzo."
Tony realises that Gibbs' gaze is on Ziva, who has turned her back to collect her things from her desk, and he lets his eyes wander the same way. Though it has been almost two months since they both returned to the country from their purgatorial separation, she has yet to gain back all the weight she lost between Afghanistan and Russia, and so has a ragged, almost fragile look about her that tends to worsen in spells. It makes Tony worry, but he won't admit it because he knows Ziva does not take well to being fussed over, and he has no wish to be standing at the wrong end of her weapon. Not again.
The two men share a small, almost imperceptible nod as Tony waits for Ziva to pull on her jacket. Then, absentmindedly reaching out, he untucks her ponytail from her collar, and is surprised when she lets him. Usually, such displays of affection are rebuffed when not in private.
" See you tomorrow Gibbs."
" Shalom, Jethro."
Their goodbyes are met with a sardonic expression and a scant flicker of a glance. " In on time tomorrow. And at least wait 'til you're in the elevator before you start playing grab-ass."
With suppressed smiles, they leave the bullpen, and following orders, Ziva waits until the elevator doors have slid shut before sliding her hand into his.
XxX
Before they have even got out of the car at home, Tony knows what kind of evening it is going to be. He had planned on cracking open a bottle of red wine, cooking some pasta and settling into a movie, relishing being home before the middle of the night, but Ziva seems to have other ideas. All the time they are driving – with him at the wheel, because he hasn't quite got to the point where he will let her control the Mustang – her hand rests on his knee. The closer they get to home, the further her hand slides up his thigh, and by the time he pulls on the handbrake, her hand is high enough that it makes him squirm.
" Not hungry?" he asks, and almost head-slaps himself, because he can hear his voice soaring an octave higher than normal as she flexes her fingers.
Caressing her thumb back and forth, she uses her other hand to trail lazily over her collarbone. When she speaks, her voice is husky. " Not hungry."
He doesn't fight when she reaches across and grasps his collar, pulling him towards her with a strength that belies her size. There's no way he'll argue when he's at this end of her forceful nature. Instead, he allows himself to taste the coffee on her lips, breathing in the scent of sun and sand and jasmine that is simply her.
Leaning back, she breathes out just as he breathes in, and it is almost as though he is inhaling some of her essence. It makes him dizzy. " Inside," she murmurs, her fingers already working at the top buttons of his shirt.
" Inside," he agrees, pulling his hand away from where it has been creeping up under her shirt. The cotton brushes against the back of his hand, soft and cool on his skin.
They just about manage to get out of the car and lock the doors, and then to the front door (with the fastest pace that Tony thinks he has ever used when not chasing a suspect) before Ziva slides her hand into the front pocket of Tony's jeans to retrieve his key and he almost groans. " Zi - " he starts, but she puts a finger to his lips.
There is a silence that feels like it lasts for an eternity before Tony hears the telltale 'click', and watches Ziva push the door open. She turns and shoots him what he, in his head, calls her 'sexy ninja' smile. It makes him wonder equally whether she is going to kill him or kiss him all over. At this point, he'll take his chances.
Tugging the elastic out of her hair, the curls tumble over her shoulders, and his fingers itch to touch them. But just as he reaches out, she ducks out of his grasp. " Give me five minutes," she says, and it isn't as much as request as an order, so he collapses onto the sofa and starts pulling petulantly at his tie. Watching him, she smiles, amused, and leans down to plant a kiss on him so hot and long that his brain starts to shut off. He doesn't even notice that the kiss has stopped until she is halfway across the room. " Five minutes," she reiterates, before disappearing into the bedroom.
The tie is tossed across the room and the shoes kicked off before he even thinks about the half-order that Gibbs had sent him away with. So, they were meant to be getting 'rest' tonight; he is almost sure that will happen later. Almost.
His thoughts are suddenly distracted from the half-naked assassin in the next room when his phone begins buzzing against his leg. Sliding it out of his pocket and looking at the display, he half expects for it to show 'Gibbs' in a show of suspected psychic powers, but he doesn't recognise the number that flashes up on the front. Watching it ring for a moment, he briefly considers his options.
Finally, flipping the phone open, he presses it to his ear, his mind still busy imaging what is happening fifteen feet away. " Hello?" For a moment, there is nothing, and he almost hangs up. Then he hears a slow, steady breath, in and out. In the silence, it is disconcerting. " Look as much fun as this heavy breathing is, I'm hanging up." He laces his voice with false bravado, and has just begun to pull the phone away from his ear when a voice stops him.
" Tony?"
" Adler?" Despite the unfamiliar number, he recognises the young woman's voice - after all, he had spent three months listening to her boss him about aboard ship, and she had called him a number of times since his return from Spain to check in (and check up on him, he's fairly sure). He knows she too has been moved to the States, and had started work at Norfolk a month ago. " Look, Adler, this really isn't a good time. Can I call you…" His words are interrupted by the sound of a hiccup, and is stills him in his tracks, because he realises she is crying. Adler, crying. The notion astounds him. " Adler?" he pauses, " Ramona - what happened?"
" Tony…" another hiccup.
He feels his heartbeat begin to race in his chest for what seems like the hundredth time that day, hammering his ribs. " Ramona, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"
There is a long pause, where everything seems to fade into nothingness.
" I think…I think I killed him."
XxX
In an instant, whatever amorous feelings Tony had been fostering up to this point disappear. He is up off of the sofa; phone still pressed to his ear as he paces the room. " Adler, Adler where are you? Are you hurt? Tell me where you are." His voice is direct and forceful, but it doesn't cut through her tears. " Ramona, tell me where you are, I'll come get you."
There are hiccups and unsteady breathing on the other end, and Tony is almost sure she is hyperventilating. He is just about to grab his other phone and get McGee to trace her cell when she finally speaks. " I'm on M Street."
" Which end?" he asks, not even bothering to ask what on earth she is doing in the District when she lives in Virginia almost three hours away.
" Uh…" her voice is distracted, as though she hasn't even really noticed where she is until this point. He hears cars driving past and the sound of blaring horns. " South East. By South Capital."
He is already pulling his shoes on and grabbing his keys before she even finishes talking. " Stay there. Stay right there, I'll be fifteen minutes." This, even though the drive should take thirty, because he can hear her tears and he know his heartbeat won't return to normal until he sees her face.
" Okay," she whispers back, and her voice is so small that it is barely audible.
He hangs up the phone without as much as a goodbye, already calling through the apartment. " Ziva!"
" I said five minutes Tony, don't be a child," he hears her call back from inside the bedroom, but instead of waiting, he pushes the door open. He is met with quite an arresting sight – Ziva, pulling her shirt over her head, jeans already kicked to the floor, curls tumbling down her naked back, wearing only a scrap of black lace. For a moment, his mouth dries, but he has to shake himself – now is not the time.
As she turns around, she starts, " You are the most impatient - " before stopping. He knows panic must be clearly evident on his face, because she drops her look of consternation in an instant. " What's happened?" She steps up to him, still almost totally undressed, and presses a hand to his cheek. " Did Gibbs call?" As he shakes his head, her face begins to pale. " A hospital? Your father? My father?"
" Adler," he finally admits, resting his hand on top of hers briefly.
Her face contorts to confusion almost instantly. " Adler? Ramona Adler?" The two women had met in those last few days in Barcelona and at the time Ziva had seemed to like the younger woman, but now she removes her hand from his cheek, folding her arms over her naked chest.
Tony nods, feeling the irritation radiate from her, and begins to explain in a hasty, halting manner. " She called, and I don't know, something's happened. She's in trouble, or she's hurt." He doesn't mention the half-confession she had sobbed down the phone, but keeps his eyes averted save her reading the truth there. " I have to go get her."
" From Norfolk? That is a three hour drive this time of night." She turns her back on him, going to the chest of drawers and pulling out one of his old t-shirts. His college emblem stares back at him and seems startlingly incongruous in that moment. She slips it over her head before turning back, and it falls to her mid-thigh.
" She's in DC," he explains. " On M Street. I don't know what she's doing here."
" She did not tell you?" Ziva's expression is one of curiosity, and he knows he has piqued her investigative side, even through her annoyance. He wants to tell her how much he regrets not being able to rip her clothes off right now and throw her on the bed, but he can't ignore the tear-filled voice that is still echoing in his ears. So he just shakes his head. Seeing his honest concern, Ziva sighs, some of the irritation dissipating, though just enough lingering to make her words hard. " Go. I will be here when you get back."
With his shoulders tense, he nods, and grabs his jacket before turning and walking out of the bedroom. He has just grabbed the handle to the front door when he feels a hand on his arm, and it makes him stop. When he turns, she is right in front of him, and she stands on tiptoe to press a soft, forgiving peck against his lips. " Drive safely - it is beginning to rain."
With the promise that he will, he leaves the apartment, and as he slides into the driver's seat of the car, he gives himself an extra hard head-slap.
So much for a quiet evening in.
XxX
The rain has moved on from a little shower to absolutely pouring by the time he exits the freeway. His windshield wipers are on at their maximum level, but he can still barely make things out as he crawls along the street, his eyes scanning the surroundings for the sight of his young Midshipman friend. Almost at the end of M Street, he swears vehemently in English and Italian, and is just about to pull out his cell phone when he sees her.
She is huddled in a doorway, drenched from head to toe. Tony can't help but notice that she still wears her uniform, and the thin cotton clings to her skinny frame. Her hair, normally so neat and orderly, falls over her face in sodden, wet-dark clumps, and he brakes the car quicker than he should, pulling it onto the side of the road.
" Adler!" he calls over the storming weather as he exits the car. Running across the street, he splashes in a puddle accidentally, and the water flows over his shoes and soaks his socks. " Adler!" he calls again.
He is practically at her side by the time she hears him. She turns her face towards him, and he is shocked by what he sees. She is pale, even more so than normal, and it is made all the more striking by the patches of dried blood on her neck and chin, clearly the aftermath of an earlier nosebleed. Normally confident and brazen, she seems almost hunched in on herself, and she wraps her arms around her body. He doesn't miss how she flinches as he reaches out for her shoulder. " Adler?" he says again, this time holding out his hand for her to take. " Come on, let's get you out of the rain."
There is a moments hesitation, and then she reaches out with her left hand and wraps her fingers around his. He's surprised by the desperate feel of her grip, but doesn't question it as he leads her to the car. Once inside, he takes off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders, turning all the heaters on and directing them towards her shivering body.
The whole ride home, she doesn't speak. Ramona, who argued with him for three months straight, who cajoled him and teased him and bantered with him, is absolutely silent. It's eerie enough to make him feel slightly sick.
Once home, he escorts her into the apartment with a strong arm across her shoulders, and her body quivers beneath it. Ziva has clearly been watching for them, because he doesn't even have to fumble for his keys – the door swings open the minute his feet touch the first step.
" Gevne," she murmurs, the shock clear despite her Hebrew exclamation, catching sight of Adler. Holding the door, still dressed in the over-sized t-shirt of Tony's now coupled with thick woollen socks, she allows the two to step inside, and then, patting Tony's arm says, " I will get some towels."
" And something dry for her to wear," he calls after her.
Ramona still stands stock-still in the centre of the living room, dripping water onto the hard wood floor. She stares around, unseeing for a moment, until Tony grips her upper arms. Then her eyes widen, and she looks at him in shock. " Tony," she finally speaks, the name tripping off her tongue, as though only now recognising him.
" Adler, what happened?" he asks again, his voice low so as not to be heard by Ziva, who shuffles around just in his line of sight, reaching into the linen closet. " You said you killed someone."
She turns her face away at his words, struggling in his grip though he doesn't let go. The soaked cotton of her uniform rubs against her wet-raw skin and chills his hands. " I was bleeding," she states, and it seems like a non-sequitur, save the way she reaches up to touch her crimson-stained face. " He wouldn't let go."
The words and the image they cause makes bile rise in the back of Tony's throat, and he clenches his jaw. Loosening his grip on her, he instead pulls her towards his chest, wrapping his arms around her, and she goes to him willingly, leaning into him like a tired, small child. He rests his chin on top of her head, ignoring how wet her hair and clothes are. " You're going to be okay now," he promises, rubbing her back, both to comfort and to warm. " I'll make this right. Whatever happened, I'll make it right."
Any further reassurances are cut short by Ziva's return to the living room. Holding two large towels, she throws one to Tony, who catches it one handed, and indicates Ramona with the other. " I have laid out some dry clothes in the bathroom," she explains to Tony, and then speaking to the other woman, directs, " Come now and let's get you warm." Her tone is almost maternal as she holds her hand out, and Tony watches, a little in awe, as Ramona nods and takes her hand. She follows along like a wayward little girl.
As he hears the water in the bathroom begin to flow, he sits heavily down on the sofa. He has to fix this. He just has to.
Where to start?
XxX
It is over an hour later before they settle Ramona down, wearing a t-shirt and old track pants of Tony's that make her look like nothing more then a daughter dressing up in her daddy's clothes. Covered with three layers of blankets and still shivering, she lays curled tightly on the sofa, her eyes finally drifting shut with exhaustion. Tony sits on the opposite armchair, watching her, worry and concern and something else he isn't familiar with playing across his mind. His brow furrows.
He doesn't even hear Ziva re-enter the room until she winds her fingers through his hair, the gentle touch making his eyelids flutter closed for a second. He sighs, reaching out for her and pulling her into his lap, where she sits without argument. Briefly, he rests his forehead against her sternum, and she drops a kiss to the top of his head. He curls a hand around her hip, " What am I supposed to do?"
His words are muffled into her breastbone, but she understands him perfectly. " You look after her. You let her sleep. We will talk to her again tomorrow when the shock wears off." Because they recognise Adler's behaviour now: the confusion, the lingering fear, the inability to stop shaking. Shock, from whatever had occurred before she had found her way to M Street.
Ziva's fingers trace the planes of his face as he pulls back, and she drops a short kiss to the corner of his mouth. " Come to bed," she requests, sliding off of his knee.
But he shakes his head, turning his eyes back to the sofa. " I want to make sure she's alright."
" Tony?" When he looks back at her, her arms are dropped down by her sides, her chin held high, and she is eyeing him with an expression that speaks of myriad feelings. Her voice is very soft. " She is asleep and she is safe here. Come to bed."
Finally relenting, he nods his head, standing up out of the chair and allowing her to lead him into the bedroom. Lying between the cool, cotton sheets, he lets her comfort him with her touch, and her kisses, and soft, murmured words.
By the time they finally sleep, the sun has already started to rise.
