Remember how I said that all the team members would get scenes? Well, this is McGee's. I love the friendship between him and Ziva; they're like brother and sister... or maybe not, since I don't get along that well with my brothers. But anyway, I think Ziva and McGee are so cute together, and I hope this chapter conveys that.


Chapter 3
The Translation

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McGee purses his lips in frustration, his fingers hovering over his keyboard as he reads the message on his screen again. When they returned to the Navy Yard, Gibbs and Tony took that man - Tamir, that was his name - to interrogation to question him about Corporal Beason's death. McGee was sent back to his desk to do McGeek work, but instead, he's been trying to translate the words that Tamir said to Ziva back at the house. But he had spoken so quietly, almost tenderly.

It had made McGee think of a snake, like the one that bit him on that camping trip when he was a Webelos. The words slithering softly through the air, full of poison.

He tries to replay the words in his mind, but the memory makes him so uncomfortable. He almost didn't hear them, but he certainly saw the look on Ziva's face. It was impossible to miss that. Her dark eyes went blank, like a light inside them was suddenly switched off. McGee had seen that emptiness in her eyes in Somalia, and seeing it again made his stomach clench up in knots that still hadn't come undone, even here at his desk in the familiar safety of the bullpen.

McGee clicks on different translation websites, tries different spellings, but his search still yields no results. Maybe he isn't even translating from the right language. He assumes that Tamir was speaking Arabic, but how would he know? Sure, he can translate Klingon, but a language that might actually be useful to know is beyond him.

He raises his head above his monitor, and his eyes wander over to Ziva's empty desk. He isn't exactly sure where she is - probably in observation, watching Gibbs and Tony interrogate Tamir. Maybe he should just ask Ziva what Tamir had said, but... no. It wouldn't be anything relevant to the case; it wasn't as if he had confessed to killing Beason to her. Asking Ziva would only upset her, and Gibbs and Tony would kick his ass if he did that.

But still, he's curious. He can tell that he won't be able to stop wondering. So when he sees Nikki Jardine crossing the bullpen, McGee jumps up from behind his desk and hurries after her. You're doing this for Ziva.

"Um, Agent Jardine?" he calls.

She turns around, a stack of files in her hand, and smiles when she sees him. "Agent McGee," she says, remembering him from the few times that she's worked with Gibbs's team.

"Can I ask you a quick question?"

"Sure," she nods. "Anything to avoid typing up all this paperwork."

McGee glances around to make sure that no one is in earshot, then steps closer to Nikki. "I know you speak Arabic," he says in a low voice. "I need you to translate something." Nikki looks slightly puzzled - she's probably wondering why I'm not asking Ziva this - but she nods again. McGee takes a deep breath and, as well as he can, he repeats the sounds that Tamir made when he saw Ziva.

Nikki's eyes widen as the expression on her face goes from puzzled to shocked, and the knots in McGee's stomach suddenly tighten. He once again imagines the words as a snake, coiled and hissing, ready to strike - at him, this time. This isn't going to be pretty.

"Where did you ever hear such a thing?" Nikki asks. Her tone is almost accusatory.

God, how could he have been so stupid enough to ask her this? Never mind, McGee wants to answer. I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business, anyway. But before the words can make it to his lips, Nikki goes on.

"It means... well, it means 'the black-eyed Jew.' The second part, yahoud, that's the Arabic word for Jew." Nikki squares her shoulders and looks McGee as if she doesn't know whether to be offended or concerned. "Where did you hear it?" she asks again, but the look on McGee's face must scream nonono can't tell you that because she hastily adds, "I mean, I don't know where you heard it, but... does it make sense? In context?" She's as uncomfortable as he is now. She must suspect that this has something to do with Ziva.

McGee just manages to nod and thank her before he turns and heads back to his desk. When he accidentally bumps into it, the sharp corner jabbing him in the thigh, he can't help but think, Good, that hurts. I deserve it. What was he thinking? He hasn't done this for Ziva, but to her. He's gone behind her back and found out something that she didn't want anyone to know.

He's so busy beating himself up that he's at his desk before he feels it - a gaze on his back. McGee slowly turns around, and there's Ziva, sitting behind her own desk, regarding him steadily. Her and her damn Mossad spy skills. How did she sneak back into the bullpen without him noticing? And how long has she been sitting there? McGee's mouth feels impossibly dry, and he realizes with sudden horror that he's standing there with his jaw hanging open like an idiot.

"Ziva," he says, and - is that really his voice? So high and squeaky, so obviously guilty? He swallows hard and tries again. "Ziva. I thought you were in interroga - "

"I was," she says shortly, cutting him off.

McGee glances at the elevators. Maybe he should try to make a run for it, since Ziva must have overheard him talking to Nikki, and she's obviously pissed about it, and she can kick his ass twelve different ways.

Ziva goes on, "But Gibbs did not want me in observation while he interrogated Ta - " But she stops on his name and makes a strange choking noise, low in her throat. McGee can't help staring at her, his eyes widening, because he's never heard Ziva make a sound like that before and hopes to God that he never hears it again. He watches nervously as she raises one hand to her throat and presses the Star of David pendant on her necklace. It seems to calm her.

Ziva swallows and starts over, just like he did a moment ago. "Gibbs wants to know if you traced those last calls on Beason's cell phone."

Of course. The calls to the blocked number. McGee had completely forgotten that Gibbs wanted him to try to hack through the security barrier. "Um, right," he says quickly, trying to recover. But he still doesn't move from where he's standing in front of his desk, looking over at Ziva. "Yeah, I was just getting to - uh, I mean, I haven't had a chance yet, but - "

"I know," Ziva interrupts, very quietly. McGee has to strain to hear her. And that terrible blankness is in her eyes again. McGee flashes back to his childhood home in Bethesda, right after his family moved out. The bare, curtainless windows framing the empty rooms. That's what Ziva's eyes look like now - just as if the woman behind them has packed up and moved out.

Then, with a neat clip to each word, she adds, "Agent Jardine's translation was very... accurate."

McGee is sure that Ziva must hear his stomach do something like a flip-flop before it drops into his shoes. He hasn't felt so guilty since he thought he killed the undercover cop. Before he even registers it, he's crossed the distance to her desk, words tumbling out his mouth, trying to undo the damage, trying to draw the poison out of the snake bite.

"Ziva, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to - I know it was none of my business, but I was just so worried about you - " No, Tim, you idiot, she doesn't want to hear that, she hates to pitied. "I mean, I was just so curious, and I didn't think you would find out, so - "

"Did you think if you asked me, I would not have told you what it means?" McGee doesn't have to strain to hear her this time. She's been looking away, staring fixedly at her monitor, but now she meets his gaze, her eyes flashing with anger. At least they're not so empty-looking anymore. And she's actually angry. It's the first crack in the mask of forced calm that she's worn since she came face-to-face with Tamir.

Yes, McGee almost answers, because he knows how guarded Ziva can be, how much she wouldn't want to talk about Tamir or translate what he said to her. Besides, Gibbs gave him and Tony strict orders not to press her about anything.

"No," he hears himself say, his voice surprisingly steady, "I thought if I asked you... it would upset you. And I didn't want to do that." He forces himself to maintain eye-contact with Ziva, even though he can still hear those words slithering around in the back of his mind - the black-eyed Jew - and he hopes that Ziva understands that this isn't pity. This is concern. This is her team caring about her.

Ziva doesn't answer right away, but she slowly stands up behind her desk. She reaches for McGee with one arm, and he actually hopes that she does kick his ass, or at least head-smack him. He deserves it. But her anger disappears as suddenly as it came, and she just puts her hand on McGee's shoulder. It feels all wrong that she's comforting him, but it also occurs to McGee that maybe this is what Ziva needs to do to avoids feeling like a victim.

"I know, McGee," she says, her voice quiet again, but he can hear the genuine gratitude in it. "I appreciate that."

And when she manages a smile, he smiles back at her. It's what she's been doing ever since they brought her back from Somalia, after all - acting like everything's normal, pretending that nothing's wrong. He can't stop playing along with her now.