Chapter 2
The lift was cool and quiet. The only indication that it was in transit was the slow ticking of the numbers that indicated which floor you were on. It was the way Ziva David liked it, and she smiled smugly to herself. There was a gentle tone that indicated she had arrived at the requested floor. The doors rolled gently back and all trace of Ziva's smile faded. She walked out with a catlike grace, her bag slung over her left shoulder. She entered the teams' squad room, and gracefully descended to her perch at her desk. As usual the other team members hadn't arrived. She still hadn't made the changeover from Israeli work hours to American. After all this time! She admonished herself, but still, there was this aspect of the morning that she enjoyed. Sighing she fired up her computer and waited for its initialization program to finish. Narrowing her eyes at its slowness she thought; if Agent McGee had messed up her filing system again with his obsessive de-fragging, she would ensure he regretted it.
Five minutes later she was idly tapping her fingers against the desk. Frustrated, she sighed, why did NCIS have to be so different? Why didn't the working day start at 6:30? It was... inefficient Ziva mused. She much preferred the work hours she was used to, up at 5:30, at work by 6:30, beginning an investigation by 6:35. No fuss. But things had not calmed down at home. There were still complications. And besides there was still something she wanted, needed, even. She often found it strange, that she could feel this way about him. It was dangerous; it was a weakness, something that could be used against her. Something her carefully concealed emotions screamed at her to get, and yet, it was the last thing she could afford. This is how it would always be, an impasse. He would never know what she felt towards him; her emotions were perfectly concealed against the world, only she would decide what she would broadcast and what she would keep to herself. She had trained herself so that her breath never caught when she saw him. It used to, and to Ziva, that felt as if she had set a flash-bang grenade off, but thankfully no one seemed to notice.
She would spend this one, perfect hour every day just thinking about him. Imagining all the other possibilities, how their lives could end up, how it could all be so perfect. Ziva knew it was a vain gesture, but what else could she afford? She dreamt of her being able to show her potent, if carefully concealed emotions to him, and he could love her entirely...
'Hey Ziva', Agent McGee greeted her. As usual she was first in, and as usual she had her feet up on the desk a pencil in her mouth, and was staring dreamily up at the ceiling. And as usual as soon as he greeted her, she corrected her posture, placed her pencil on her desk and replied. It was as if a careful, measured mask that held just enough emotion to be warm and friendly, but still automated enough to make her appear machine like, would be summoned up from the depths of her lethal training. Frankly, it creeped McGee out. It would descend on her perfect features and erase any trace of whatever she had been previously thinking about.
Ziva replied to McGee's incessant greeting. Now now, she told herself, be diplomatic, he's only trying to be friendly and supportive. But she still couldn't help feeling irritated. Especially because she was thinking of him.
Agent DiNozzo and the boss walked in simultaneously. Agent DiNozzo walked to his desk, whistling a tune. Probably a theme tune to some movie Ziva thought, while the boss walked straight through the squad room and without even tilting those penetrating ice blue wolf eyes stated 'we've got a murder on a marine base, grab your gear and be at the motor pool in five'. He then disappeared up the stairs to the Multiple Threat Assessment Centre, his efficient payload delivered. The team immediately snapped into action. Taking standard issue weapons out of their drawers and attaching their badges to their belts. In addition to this gear each team member took a rucksack with them, containing emergency food and water rations, as well as spare ammunition, sterile rubber gloves, first aid kits, spare memory cards for their camera's and other support material relevant to a crime scene investigation and rapid deployment to the field. As one they arrived at the lift and descended to the motor pool, where they would undoubtedly get reacquainted with their vehicle and meet Ducky and his medical assistant alongside their prized medical vehicle.