Ziva sat in her car, very still. None of her muscles were moving and her face remained passive. To an innocent passerby it would look like she had been chiselled out of limestone into a static statue. To Ducky it would look like she had died and was now in full rigour. To Tony, who knew her so well, it would look as if she was considering something deeply. It would be Tony who would be right.
Finally, Ziva stirred. She turned her head to look at the shop window she should be standing on the other side of. Shivering and still not completely certain whether she wanted to do this, she climbed out of her car and marched into the shop.
She blinked and took in the view, her anxiety fading instantly and her Israeli roots kicking into action. She widened her eyes and surveyed the displays, her gaze narrowing on one specific diamond. She strode over to it and peered through the glass at it.
'A very nice choice,' a voice commented from behind the counter.
Ziva glanced up. 'Yes, it is,' she agreed. She proceeded to give the shop assistant a lengthy lecture about the cut of the diamond and how it compared to diamonds in general. When she finally concluded her explanation, she returned her attention to the diamond in question.
'Uh, thank you, Miss,' the shop assistant stuttered before reverting to her ingrained mantra. 'Is there anything I can do to help?'
Ziva did not look up this time. 'How much?' she inquired directly.
'Uh, um, well,' the shop assistant faltered. 'Do you, uh, not want to, um, see it closer first?'
'No, I have seen enough,' Ziva replied coolly. 'How much is it?' she repeated impatiently.
'$2100,' the shop assistant answered nervously. 'Are you sure...?'
'No,' Ziva decided. 'It is not worth that much.' She narrowed her eyes, preparing to argue her case for the ring.
The shop assistant shook her head and took a step backwards away from Ziva. A gaunt, older man in a close fitting suit came to her rescue.
'What seems to be the problem, ma'am?' he queried smoothly.
Ziva twisted her mouth in distaste at the address. 'This ring is overpriced,' she stated firmly.
'I can assure you that every piece in this store has been valued and is worth what is being asked,' she replied suavely, without blinking an eye at the forceful tone Ziva had adopted.
'And I can assure you that you are mistaken,' she countered.
'Ma'am, if you do not want the ring...' he began, turning away.
'I know diamonds,' Ziva informed his coldly. 'And I know prices.' She took a step closer to the display case. 'And,' she slammed her fist down on the glass, 'this diamond and that price does not match.'
The man wrinkled his nose in distaste at her outburst but, to pacify the other customers staring, he bent down and pretended to consider her accusation.
'I am afraid that I would have to disagree,' he concluded, straightening up. 'If you do not, then choose a different one. An expert has examined every diamond in here and it has all been...'
'Priced accordingly, yeah,' Ziva interrupted. 'I heard you the first time. I am not the one with hearing difficulties.' She raised a hand to his ear and prodded a hearing aid discreetly concealed inside.
The man flushed. 'Look, ma'am, I shall have to ask you to leave the store,' he ordered as politely as he could muster in his barely contained rage.
Ziva shrugged and turned on her heel, loudly addressing the other customers. 'These people are pompous bastards who want to steal your money,' she announced. 'Don't give them the pleasure.' She paused to peer down at another diamond which caught her practised eye. 'And, never argue with an Israeli about diamonds.' She cocked her head approvingly. 'Beautiful cut,' she remarked. 'A bit sloppily set, though.'
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted two burly security guards lumbering towards her. The door was right in front of her and she could be out of it in less than two seconds if she chose. But, she was irritable and itching for a fight, so she remained. Besides, she consoled herself, they had insulted her. They deserved to see a spectacle.
The guards reached her and grabbed her arms. 'Miss, you are going to have to leave now,' one demanded oafishly.
Ziva rolled her eyes and jerked her arms out of his grip. 'Get off me,' she snapped.
'Miss,' the other tried. 'Please leave now.' He reached out for her arms again but, instead, found himself flat on his back with Ziva already ready to take on the next security guard. He lunged at her but she neatly dodged out of his way and tripped him over, feeling the familiar exhilaration she got in a fight or confrontation.
A few people in the crowd began to clap, while others edged away from the crazy woman beating up the guards in the middle of a jewellery shop. Ziva turned to them.
'Overpriced trash,' she spat before waving cheerfully at the crowd. 'Bye,' she chirped, slipping out of the shop.
Once in her car, she sank her head into her hands and banged it repeatedly on the dashboard, ignoring the loud honks as she hit the horn. 'Idiot,' she muttered. 'Ziva, you idiot.'
She drove through the crowded streets, winding through the clogged traffic. As she predicted, her phone rang less than fifteen minutes after the incident in the shop. She slid into a parking space and answered.
'Yes Gibbs?' she asked immediately.
'Ziva, what the hell happened?' he barked.
'I don't know,' she replied evenly. 'They tried to rip me off.'
'Ziva,' he growled. 'They were going to lend us a ring for almost nothing. You weren't going to have to pay that anyway. The manager agreed to give us a refund once you had bought it.' He groaned at her lack of control. 'All we needed was a camera to catch you buying a ring. You knew this, why would you...?' Words failed him at the incomprehensible stupidity of his most controlled agent. 'Ziva, what were you thinking?'
Ziva gulped, ashamed. 'Gibbs,' she began, collecting herself. 'They were ripping off all the other innocent customers there, I...'
'That's not your problem, Ziva,' he argued. 'You knew what you were meant to do.' He hesitated before continuing and she heard him sigh. 'Look, Ziva, if you can't do this, just say so.'
Ziva closed her eyes and slumped back in her seat. 'No, Gibbs,' she answered. 'I have to do this.'
'So do it,' he barked. There was a pause. 'Call DiNozzo and tell him to come in. I want to see both of you here in half an hour,' he ordered curtly, hanging up.
'I have to do this,' she repeated to herself, the words echoing in the hollow shell of her cheery, red Mini Cooper. 'I have to do this.'
She dialled Tony's number and waited for him to pick up.
'DiNozzo,' he greeted cheerily.
'Tony,' she snapped, her bad mood still not evaporated. 'Gibbs needs you here now.'
Tony groaned inwardly. 'What is it about?'
'I don't know,' Ziva replied curtly.
'My marriage?' he asked.
'Our marriage,' Ziva corrected, wincing at the idea.
'Our fake marriage,' Tony added. 'So,' he prompted. 'Is it about our arranged marriage?' He snorted mirthlessly. 'Arranged by Vance,' he spat.
Ziva rolled her eyes at his childish petulance. 'I don't know,' she repeated impatiently, lying through her teeth. 'Just come in.'
Tony grinned to himself. 'Are you going to be like this when we are married?' he inquired. 'Because you can't carry the DiNozzo name and be grumpy.'
'Tony,' Ziva warned, annoyed by his persistence.
'I'm coming,' he assured her hastily. 'Bye wife.'
'Goodbye, Tony,' she sighed, hanging up.