A/N: Here we have my take on one outcome of the finale. Hope you enjoy it. You'll notice that I've changed some things to fit my own little world here. BIG HUG to gosgirl for the assurance that I could let go of the obsessive editing and post. That was just what I needed. :)
All words and events taken from or inspired by the episode itself belong to CBS, et al.
One more chapter should close this out and the rating will go up to M, so be on the lookout for the update, if you're interested. Thanks for reading!
Ziva and Gibbs arrived at work together, but separately. They'd both made the stop to pick up coffee and breakfast, and decided to get enough for the whole team. Gibbs carried the goods in himself just to see the shock on the guys' faces when he did. It was worth it.
They didn't have to know it didn't take much to make him smile this morning. Where was the fun in admitting that?
In no time, they all had their heads back in the game. The reprieve last night had done each of them some good. The team worked relentlessly on the case, going back over every last detail, determined to catch Dearing and put an end to this.
At one point, Gibbs received a text from Ryan. MY OFFICE NOW. He'd given a snort and ignored the summons. Ziva glanced over at him curiously. He gave her a faint smile and a look that said Later.
After about twenty minutes, his phone rang. Big surprise – it was Dr. Ryan. He thought about not answering, but she was involved in working this case and on the off-chance that she'd actually decided to share information pertinent to it, he picked up.
"Yeah, Gibbs."
"I thought you'd be here by now," she said, stress coming through loud and clear in her voice.
"If you have something to say about the case, say it," he directed evenly. "Nothing else to talk about."
He walked away from his desk. Snagging Ziva's gaze and tilting his head, he silently told her to follow him. He headed toward an empty office down the hall, moving at his usual clip. Ziva wasn't far behind, but she wasn't too sure about this.
After Ziva walked into the office he chose, he closed the door behind them.
"I – I just thought you might want to know I'm leaving," Sam said haltingly on the other end of the phone, thrown by his brusque tone despite the way he'd ended things last night. She'd been trying to convince herself he'd just spoken in the heat of the moment and would come around. Apparently not.
"You do remember we're in the middle of a case, right?" Gibbs asked in some disbelief. "A big one."
"My ex is out of prison," Ryan revealed tersely, shoring up the emotional control she prized, the control that was slipping badly. "I'm taking Parker and we're leaving."
For the first time since he'd met her, he heard fear in her voice. Just because he'd put a stop to their personal relationship didn't mean he couldn't feel for the circumstances in which she now found herself.
"Doc, people can help you with your ex," he said quietly.
"What – you'll send your best man to take him out? That's about the only thing that could help," Ryan returned. Her tone was harsh, bordering on irrational.
"My best man for that is a woman and she stays with me," he responded, looking directly into Ziva's eyes. "But there are other people – other ways – to help."
"Dearing bought a judge, Gibbs," Ryan choked out. "There's no help that can reach far enough. I have to go. Goodbye."
The line went dead.
He slowly closed his phone, staring at it for a few seconds. Ziva gently laid a hand on his forearm.
"Gibbs?" she questioned hesitantly.
He gave her a brief run-down of the side of the conversation she hadn't heard. It was true she had no love for Dr. Samantha Ryan. However, given the gravity of the other woman's situation, she pushed the uncertainty about her own situation to the side, even though it had her stomach churning a little.
"Perhaps you should go see her," Ziva offered softly.
"And do what?" Gibbs asked. "Can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. She'll handle this the way she does everything else: exactly the way she wants."
Ziva still looked slightly troubled.
He placed his hand on the back of her neck and rubbed soothingly.
"Don't want anything bad to happen, but it's not my problem," he said firmly.
He pulled her forward and pressed a reassuring kiss to her forehead. She reached up and squeezed his wrist in appreciation, then turned toward the door.
"Ziver?"
"Yes?" she asked, turning her head back toward him.
"Don't let me make a habit of this," he directed.
"Of wha-" The rest of the word was lost against his mouth as he turned her completely into him and his lips captured hers in a soft, warm kiss.
Without hesitation, her lips molded to his and she leaned into him.
The kiss wasn't long and he managed to stop himself from taking it deep, but it was nonetheless thrilling.
Her senses were swimming as he lifted his head and she leaned her forehead against his chin for a moment to steady herself.
"Jethro?"
"Mmmmm?"
"If I am the one in charge of keeping you from kissing me, we are in serious trouble," Ziva informed him breathlessly.
He grinned and hugged her to him affectionately, then they left the room.
They walked down the hall for a few moments in companionable silence.
"You do realize that was you back there not 'screwing up,' yes?" Ziva asked him in a casual tone, using her fingers in the air as quotation marks.
Gibbs was nothing if not quick and realized she was referring to his warning last night that he might make mistakes handling this new intimacy between them while on the job.
"Huh," he considered, gazing straight ahead as she was. "Whadya know?"
She glanced over at him. He looked so inordinately pleased with himself that she had to chuckle out loud. A few more steps had them back at their desks and back to work. They ignored the curious looks from Tony and Tim.
A few hours later, Gibbs realized Dearing had likely planted a bomb in Vance's SUV that was currently parked right outside the building. Gibbs and Jonathan Cole ran to the vehicle to attempt the impossible, while Tony and Ziva immediately began assisting with evacuating the building. In a move they would all appreciate later, McGee downloaded the information they had on Dearing to a flashdrive.
Abby was still in her lab, but her windows were dangerously close to the SUV. Jonathon sent Gibbs to get her out of harm's way and he couldn't help but go. He arrived in the lab just in the nick of time and they flew to the floor as the bomb exploded, sending glass everywhere.
Once they could stand, Gibbs pulled Abby from the lab with him. There were too many combustible materials in there for her to stay. They were a little bruised and would find bits of glass on themselves for days, but they were safe. His world now focused on one mission.
Find Ziva.
Gibbs ran from the lab, up the stairs, through the chaos brought on by an evacuation that had been interrupted by an explosion, pulling Abby behind him.
Ziva.
Where the hell was she? He was not a man given to prayer, but he found himself begging the heavens that she had gotten out before the bomb had detonated.
Gibbs and Abby arrived in the squadroom and found McGee trying unsuccessfully to get up from the floor. They immediately stooped beside him and helped him sit up, relieved to find that he was largely all right. He was badly shaken up and had several little cuts on his face courtesy of the flying glass from the large windows that had blown out, but, other than that, he seemed fine.
"McGee – where's Ziva? And DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked urgently.
"Don't know, Boss," Tim responded slowly, holding his head. "The last time I saw them, they were headed down the hallway making sure people got out."
"Abbs, stay with him until you can get him out of here," Gibbs ordered, striding away to look for the rest of his team … for Ziva.
There was a whooshing sound in his ears that dulled the sounds around him. Ziva. The enormity of the situation over-rode his usual control and his feelings clawed to the surface.
Surely he couldn't have lost her before he'd really found her - ?
With the clarity that is sometimes born of desperation, Gibbs knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted the chance to see what this was between Ziva and him, Rule 12 be damned. He didn't have all the answers, but knew he wanted to ask the questions, explore the possibilities.
He just needed the chance to do it.
Most people were out of the building now and the fire crews were moving in. He pulled out his phone and called Ziva. After several rings, the call went to voice mail.
For what seemed like an eternity, he kept moving … kept looking … kept calling. Contrary to his directive, Abby and McGee joined him in the search, equally worried about their friends.
Inside the elevator, Ziva and Tony gingerly sat up after the shaking stopped. Ziva cautiously stretched her hand up to try the buttons; unsurprisingly, none of them worked. They knew the car had fallen some with the blast, but had no way of knowing how far or if it would suddenly fall further.
Tony had struck his head really hard on the wall of the elevator when he'd fallen and every time he tried to stand, he nearly fell over from dizziness. A few pieces of the ceiling had landed on Ziva's back and left shoulder undoubtedly leaving bruises, but, otherwise, she wasn't hurt.
Suddenly, she was seized with panic. Jethro - ! He and Cole had been headed to the SUV which is surely where the blast originated. Please let him be all right. Please. She murmured it over and over in her head, hoping that was enough to make it true.
Sitting beside Tony, she pulled out her phone to try to call him, but was upset to find she had no signal.
Needing to do something, Ziva stood and began beating on the doors, yelling for help. Unbeknownst to her, the doors were mainly between floors so the sound was too muffled to carry far.
Suddenly, her phone rang. Gibbs. She answered immediately.
"Jethro. We are-" Ziva stopped talking as she realized she was talking to dead air. Looking at her phone, she cursed when she saw she had no signal again.
Tony gave her a bewildered look. Maybe he'd hit his head even harder than he thought. Jethro?
Ziva moved around slowly and carefully in the metal box holding her phone in the air, trying to get some kind of signal again. Thanks to the hole in the ceiling, she was eventually able to get one bar and called Gibbs.
"Ziva!" he answered urgently. "Where are you?"
"…vator…" was the only thing he heard, then the call dropped and he couldn't get it back. He knew where they were, though, and yelled for a rescue crew as he ran to the elevator.
He pushed the button futilely; the firemen with him used a tool to pry open the doors. The car was sitting below them, trapped between two floors. Gibbs, Abby, McGee and the fire crew ran down to the next floor and quickly pried open the doors on that level. They could now see the floor of the car hanging a few feet up as if in midair, as well as its occupants.
Ziva insisted they get Tony out first so she could help steady him from her end, given his head. The rescue workers lifted him gently to the floor, sat him down and began checking him over. One of the crew stood to help Ziva, but Gibbs stopped him.
"I've got her."
Jethro stepped closer to the elevator and reached up for her.
"Ziver," he husked, motioning for her to come closer.
She slowly slid out while he held her legs, then moved his hands to her waist as soon as he could reach it.
Gibbs could finally breathe again, but couldn't really think straight. In fact, all he could think about was holding her. Ignoring the audience around them, he all but jerked her against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
For a second, Ziva froze in shock, her chin resting on his shoulder. Then, the force of his emotions registered with her. It partnered with the powerful relief she felt at knowing he was safe to push everything else from her mind. She stopped thinking about the fact that everyone was looking at them and simply focused on the man who was holding onto her like a lifeline.
She slid her arms around his chest, hands pressing against his back, holding him to her.
"Jethro?" she murmured softly near his ear.
He didn't speak at first.
"Talk to me," she commanded gently.
"Thought …" he started, then stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Drawing a breath, he tried again. "When I couldn't find you, thought …"
I'd lost you.
Ziva heard the words as clearly in her mind as if he'd said them out loud.
She squeezed him tightly, closing her eyes as a wave of compassion and love for him rolled through her. The man had been through so much in his life … of course he would expect the worst.
She ducked her chin and attempted to lift his face from where it was buried against her hair in an effort to catch his gaze.
"Jethro? Look at me." Her slight smile and her tone were reassuring, soothing, coaxing. "I am right here."
She finally succeeded in finding his eyes with hers.
"Right here," she repeated gently, moved by the trace of fear she saw that hadn't fully faded into relief. She lifted her fingertips lovingly to his cheek, stroking his face oh-so-lightly.
He leaned his forehead against hers and moved his hands to wrap them around her neck, thumbs smoothing along her jaw.
"I was worried about you, too," she whispered past the lump of emotion in her throat. "You were going to the truck."
Her stomach clenched at the thought.
"Was there – Cole sent me to get Abby while he handled the bomb." He paused. "He couldn't have made it."
Ziva closed her eyes at the bleakness of his tone.
"And Abby?" she asked urgently.
"She's okay," he responded. "I got her."
"Thank God," Ziva breathed, "That is what saved you both. Are you all right?"
Ziva ran her hands over him lightly as if to reassure herself that he was.
"Am now," he affirmed quietly. He finally relaxed and a ghost of his characteristic smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The tenderness between them was impossible to miss.
She smiled for him and, after a moment, turned her head to lay her cheek against his shoulder, hugging him closely. Her gaze landed on three shocked co-workers.
Oh, boy.
"Um, Jethro?" she murmured.
"Yeah?" he released on a breath.
"We might have to figure out what to say to the others sooner than later," she informed him softly.
He leaned away from her a little and looked over at Abby, Tony and McGee. All three literally had their mouths hanging open in shock.
Oh.
Strangely, he wasn't worried or uncomfortable in the least that circumstances had conspired to bring his feelings to the surface - in front of the team, no less. In fact, he felt … lighter, about all of it.
"Come on," he said to the group. "Need to get out of here."
He took Ziva's hand because he wanted to and there was no reason not to now.
The next few weeks would be filled with the sort of controlled chaos that would bring the entire team to the brink of physical and mental exhaustion. They assisted with the rescue and recovery process at NCIS, remembered those who hadn't survived the bombing, salvaged what they could, created makeshift work spaces, and continued their search to locate Dearing.
Not one of them was ready for another shock to rock their world following that blast, but it came anyway.
The whole team was nearly thrown into a tailspin when Gibbs received the call from Palmer with the alarming news of Ducky's heart attack. Fortunately, his condition had been quickly stabilized and he was doing as well as could be expected.
Gibbs put Vance on the task of locating a Navy medic flight that could bring the ME to Bethesda as soon as he was cleared for travel by the doctors in Florida and before long Ducky was back among them. Given that they didn't have much in the way of new leads to follow just yet, Gibbs made sure to spend at least part of each night with his old friend at the hospital.
He was grateful and touched when Ziva arrived unannounced the first night, hoping to keep vigil over Ducky with him, even for a while. The hesitant look on her face as she waited somewhat nervously in the doorway faded into a glowing smile when he unreservedly held out his hand to her in welcome.
With the demands of work, they had barely gotten any sleep over the last few days and had not been together like this at all since he'd shown up on her doorstep on that fateful night. He wanted her with him too much to send her home to her own bed, and he actually managed to get some rest with her comforting presence beside him.
Ducky had been asleep when she'd arrived silently, and so was astonished to awaken early the next morning to find Ziva curled up on the couch sleeping against Jethro's chest as he sprawled half on – half off the short sofa. His legs were too long to completely stretch out on the furniture, so he had as much of himself as possible on the couch, his legs extended, his feet on the floor.
Slipping on his glasses, Ducky contemplated the couple, absorbing the easy manner in which they held each other, the way they seemed to fit together like two halves of a whole. Feeling eyes on him, Gibbs slowly blinked open his eyes, pressing against them with his thumb and fingers. Automatically, he looked toward the hospital bed and found bright eyes sparkling at him behind those round lenses.
"Either I have entered an alternate state of consciousness through all this or you have something to tell me," Ducky suggested quietly with a meaningful glance toward Ziva.
Gibbs' half-smile tugged at his mouth and he dropped a soft kiss to Ziva's hair.
"Still trying to figure it out myself, Duck," he admitted in a low voice, "but … feels good."
There was a pause in the conversation, but not an uncomfortable one.
"Well, I must say that this is unexpected and it might not be without its complications, but you already look as though you belong together," Ducky offered softly.
Gibbs buried a genuine smile against the dark hair resting just under his chin.
Ziva had started to wake when she felt Jethro begin to move, but had stayed completely still, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. Now she started to move, alerting the men that she was no longer asleep.
"Good morning, Ducky," Ziva said with a small smile after opening her eyes. "I hope you do not mind finding me here."
"Not at all, my dear," he assured her with a twinkle in his eye. "Quite the contrary, in fact."
Ziva tilted her head to look up at Jethro. His easy smile, the gentle touch as he smoothed his hand over her hair and the warmth in those mesmerizing blue eyes calmed the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach over how he might be with her in front of Ducky, now that the man was awake.
The patient was released after a few days and Abby organized them into shifts to stay with him at his home. They would each spend one week during non-working hours, then she would decide if more time was necessary. The normally affable Scot tried to protest that it wasn't necessary, but there was no dissuading the usually-bouncy-now-worried Goth. When Ducky realized that looking after him was as much for them as it was for him, he accepted with a gracious thank you.
Everyone had become aware that Ziva was staying with Gibbs in Ducky's hospital room unless she was needed at work. There had been very little time to talk, so her three closest friends cornered her one evening after Gibbs had left for Bethesda for what Abby called a "mini-intervention." From what Ziva could tell, the objective was to get her to spill her guts about what was going on between her and Gibbs and what the deal was with him and Dr. Ryan.
And because they were her closest friends and because all of their lives affected one another's to some degree, she gave them a highly edited version of what had transpired at her apartment and all that had happened with the psychologist. She shared that it seemed she and Gibbs had feelings for one another that went beyond friendship and they were going to take it slowly, but try to figure out what that meant for them.
Abby, Tony and Tim couldn't deny they'd been astounded by this turn of events and admitted that things might feel weird now and then, but the bottom line was they wanted nothing but happiness for both Gibbs and Ziva, no matter what that looked like.
"No one should be alone forever," Tony said quietly, looking at Ziva. "Something about you two just kinda fits. Maybe you're supposed to be not alone, together."
Ziva had to blink back moisture in her eyes. Going up on tip-toe, she placed a very soft kiss on her partner's cheek.
"Thank you, Tony," she husked. "I hope that you are right."
Then he moved them from the heartfelt to the humorous with an offer to arrange a memorial service for Rule 12. They all shared a chuckle that put them right back in their usual effortless camaraderie.
The day before Ducky's release, Abby gathered them all at Gibbs' house to discuss her proposed schedule for Operation Ducky over beer and pizza. In an adorably awkward manner, she asked Ziva and Gibbs if she should schedule them together or give them each their own week.
"You can give us each a week, Abby," Ziva informed her lightly. "We are not joined at the hip."
Jethro was standing right behind her with a hand on her aforementioned hip. The team had gotten used to these small displays of the additional level of closeness developing between Gibbs and Ziva. Mostly.
He bent his head and breathed one word for her ears only.
"Yet."
Ziva couldn't help the way her stomach dropped or the warm moisture that pooled at her center at his word, his tone. She turned her head to toss him the ghost of a grin, her eyes saying she couldn't wait. The squeeze of her hip said he got the message – and couldn't either.
Over the next few weeks, the team continued to pursue Dearing with every resource and ounce of energy they had. On the nights they actually left NCIS at the same time, Gibbs and Ziva found themselves sleeping together as often as possible, rotating between her couch, his couch and Ducky's couch. There were many nights, of course, when they weren't able to leave work at all except perhaps to run home to grab a shower and a change of clothes. However, the nights they did spend resting in each other's arms gave them some alone time and provided an opportunity for their feelings to slowly deepen and feel … real.
And the kissing that took place on those couches was nothing less than mind-blowing.
It seemed they'd tacitly agreed not to take things beyond heavy petting at this point. Given his request for time, Ziva had clearly volleyed that ball into his court. For his part, Gibbs was determined not to rush that step. He had the sense that it was going to be far more than simply sex and he wanted it to be right, to be special – and his head in the same place as his heart. She deserved nothing less. He was getting there, but the demands of work did not leave much time for introspection – especially when it didn't come naturally.
Taking it slow wasn't always easy, though, especially when he was caught in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness and felt her soft and boneless against him. And when she smiled at him … each morning that she opened her eyes to find him next to her, she smiled like she had everything she could ever want right there. It was all he could do not to devour her in those moments.
Six weeks after the deafening, terrifying BOOM that had reverberated throughout NCIS and beyond, they cornered Dearing on the tarmac of a small airfield. He stood on the steps of a private plane, seemingly unconcerned that Gibbs, Tony and McGee held him at gunpoint while he held nothing but his phone. His reason for that became clear when he called for a barely conscious Dorneget to step out of the plane.
He'd managed to nab the young agent that morning and had strapped him into a vest that held enough C4 to blow them all to kingdom come.
"Go on," Dearing said almost jovially, giving Ned a little push. "Go stand with your friends over there."
Dorneget moved gingerly, doing as he asked, terror in the eyes he raised to Gibbs'.
"Of course, I suppose for you they are more co-workers than friends," Dearing continued snidely. "You have not quite been accepted into their tight little circle, have you?"
Gibbs kept his eyes on Ned, emanating calm and reassurance.
"Last chance, Dearing," Gibbs barked out.
"You are awfully confident given that I hold the trump card," Dearing mused, moving his phone back and forth to make sure he had their attention. Then a light bulb clearly went off in Dearing's mind. "You really think your Mossad girlfriend can take me out from wherever you have her stashed inside that hangar before I press the button that will blow up your agent, taking all of us with him?"
"Former Mossad," Jethro returned with emphasis on the first word. "And I know she can. Ziva?"
"Got it," she said confidently into the earwig he wore.
Dearing opened his mouth, clearly planning to continue his taunting interchange. However, Gibbs was through playing mouse to this particular cat, one who'd left massive pain and destruction in his wake in an attempt to assuage the ache in his own heart over the death of his son. Before the home-grown terrorist could utter another word, Gibbs gave the quiet, decisive order that put an end to this at last.
"Take it."
The words were barely out of his mouth when Dearing dropped to his knees before falling down the steps of the plane, a sniper bullet in the center of his forehead.
"McGee! Phone!" Gibbs commanded.
"On it, Boss," McGee assured him, already in motion to grab the phone where it was falling from Dearing's now-slack fingers. He caught it just before it hit the ground. "Still got the signal jammer on, but I'll remove the battery, too. That should give us another layer of protection."
"Everyone stand back from Agent Dorneget," Ziva urged into their ears. "I am almost there."
Ziva had the most experience in dealing with explosives; it only made sense to let her handle this part, as well. But still …
"DiNozzo!"
"On the phone with the bomb squad right now," Tony informed his boss. "They're on the way."
Gibbs stood right next to Dorneget as Ziva came running up, having left her rifle up in the second level of the hangar where she'd taken up her vantage point.
She pulled out her knife, immediately examining the bomb strapped to the probie agent.
"Are you doing all right, Ned?" she asked softly, bending to get a closer look at the various wire paths. She was not surprised to see that the wires crisscrossed over the plastic buckles that closed the vest so that an attempt to remove it would trigger an explosion. It is what she would have done herself.
"Sure, fine," he responded, too airily. "You know, except for the pounding headache …" He reached a hand cautiously up to touch the bruised bump on the back of his head. "Oh, and the bomb strapped to my chest."
The hint of hysteria creeping into his tone suggested he was starting to lose the battle with staying calm, despite his heroic efforts to do so.
Ziva found his eyes with hers, steadying him.
"I will get you out of this," she promised. "Just hang on a little longer."
"We," Gibbs broke in. Ziva glanced at him, her brow lightly furrowed in question. "We will get him out of this."
"Gibbs, I told everyone to stay back," she reminded him. "That includes you."
"Can't stand over there and just watch you do this," he declared in a low voice, emotion flickering through his eyes. "Don't ask me to."
She looked at him for a long moment, then gave a nod. She wouldn't spend her energy on a futile request. Besides, she would do the same if the situation were reversed.
Ziva returned to her task of determining which wire was connected to the detonator. Despite the fact that the others could hear her, she couldn't stop herself from making a personal observation. Apparently the possibility of dying in the next few minutes had a way of overriding her usual reticence.
"So, Jethro," she began quietly with seeming casualness, eyes on her task. "I could not help but notice that you corrected Dearing on my status with Mossad, but not on his other descriptor."
Girlfriend.
"Should I have?" he challenged her with a raised eyebrow, looking at her face.
Despite the circumstances, a happy grin played about her lips. The butterflies in her stomach that weren't consumed with fearful fluttering gave a delighted little dance. She spared a warm glance into his eyes.
"Not as far as I am concerned."
Her answer pulled his characteristic grin and a nod of satisfaction from him. She tossed him that wink of hers that always went straight to the center of him.
"Um, guys?" Ned said nervously, drawing their attention. "Sorry to interrupt your moment and I'm really happy for you – woohoo! and all that – but do you think you could continue that conversation after you get this vest off me?"
Ziva and Jethro couldn't help the identical small grins on their faces. Then Ziva reassured the young agent.
"Actually, I have been working during our 'moment' and am about to cut this wire." She lightly tapped the one she was talking about and then looked into Ned's eyes calmly. "Are you ready?"
"Are you sure?" he couldn't help but ask.
"As sure as I can be," she answered honestly.
"Okay," Dorneget released on a breath before holding his air in altogether. "Ready."
With a quick, decisive slice, Ziva cut the wire that went to the detonator.
No explosion.
Now everyone could breathe again.
She quickly cut through the other miscellaneous wires, then she and Gibbs worked together to unfasten the buckles so they could cautiously remove the vest. Once he was clear of it, Ned embarrassed himself by fainting, but there wasn't a person among them who could blame him.
"Gibbs!" Ziva called out, but he was already moving to catch the younger man and lower him gently to the ground. McGee quietly called for an ambulance.
Ziva moved the vest carefully as far away as seemed practical. The bomb squad could handle it from there.
The team worked the crime scene quickly and efficiently. In his first official task after returning to work, Ducky came out to remove Dearing's body. It seemed only fitting.
Hours later, Gibbs and Ziva all but collapsed onto her couch for some much-needed rest.
"Good work today," he congratulated her exhaustedly, dropping a kiss to her hair as she settled her cheek against his chest.
"Thank you," she responded softly. "I guess there are still times when my particular skill set comes in handy."
He didn't miss the faint shadow underlying her tone. As she'd become more than the Mossad agent she had been, she sometimes wondered if she was still judged on her past and found … less than desirable. After all, there were moments when she judged herself that way.
He tugged gently at her hair until her head was tilted far enough back that he could dip his chin and see her face.
"Your skill set is always handy," he said firmly, looking into her eyes. Then his took on a decidedly flirtatious twinkle. "And, it's hot."
His sexy murmur curled through her, warming her to the bone. A seductive curve stole across her lips. Her teasing response pulled a grin from him before she stretched up to kiss it right off his delectable mouth.
"Well. Woohoo and all that."
